Origin of the Debt
by Sinkme
Summary: How Clint got Natasha to come to SHIELD. Focuses on developing the backstory of their relationship and why Black Widow feels like she owes Hawkeye so much- told from Clint's perspective. Features Coulson, Fury, and some whump. Rated for language.
1. Chapter 1

So many story ideas bouncing around in my head right now. I have at least three more sketched out- the movie was absolutely amazing! My goal is to finish this first and then move on but I might get distracted. I have most of this written so I should be able to upload fairly quickly.

This starts out fairly narrative but it'll get more dialogue as it goes on. I'll do the story from Clint's pov and then go to Natasha's for the same situations so you get a full look.

* * *

"Well, fuck." Barton sighed from his perch. He had been watching his target, Natasha Romanoff, better known as the Black Widow, for the better part of two weeks now. He began to disassemble his rifle and refit the pieces in the bag he had carried it in.

"Didn't copy that Agent Barton. Repeat." His earpiece hummed and Clint rolled his eyes at Coulson's comment, knowing the man wasn't trying to be funny.

"I said this is Agent Barton requesting additional time to carry out the mission."

Coulson's no-nonsense tone answered, "This mission has already been extended ten days past the allotted time. You'd better have a good reason for this request, Agent."

He allowed the smirk to pull at his mouth as he answered in the most offhand way possible, "No sir, not really a reason you'll like."

"That doesn't fill me with a lot of confidence Barton."

"Don't sweat it Coulson, you're usually fine with my results right? The method is just details," he was already moving across the roof, the bag slung across his back.

"We're going to have to discuss your mission history if you actually believe I don't have a problem with the majority of your so-called methods," Coulson replied sardonically.

"Just keep Director Fury off my ass and I'll contact you when I'm ready for extraction," Clint said. He had taken refuge on the opposite corner of the roof and waited for the transmission to end. He had to get back to the safe house and prepare.

"Clint," Coulson said. "Should I be worried?"

He took a moment to honestly consider that. Although the man's tone hadn't changed, he had been paired with Coulson long enough to hear the difference. This wasn't Coulson, his handler, asking about the mission. This was Phil, his friend, asking about his safety.

"You definitely won't be happy with me when I get back but I think this is for the best. Come and get me if I'm still silent after two days. Barton out."

He pulled the earpiece out and stored it in his jacket after he disabled the device completely. He knew Coulson would chew him out for it later but he really couldn't afford for anyone tracking him right now.

They would probably piece together what he was going to do and send another agent to clean house, but he trusted Coulson to keep him in the clear for at least two days. Just as he knew Coulson trusted him to make contact before that.

The bag was a comfortable weight against his back as he took the fire escape down to the back alley. He set off to his place at a casual pace, knowing that he had enough time to stop quickly and still beat her to her apartment.

Clint walked along, carefully observing everyone and everything around him. It was a Wednesday night and the streets weren't very crowded, especially for a city like Warsaw. His Polish wasn't great but then, she was Russian and he was pretty solid in that language so it didn't really matter.

Quickly ducking into an alley he scaled another fire escape and hopped a couple of roofs to his building. Coulson always made it a point to find him a place with roof access and a top floor location when it was possible.

The rooftop door was locked but it took less than a minute for him to pick it and he closed it firmly behind him. Descending the stairs silently he made sure the hall was clear before approaching his door and entering quietly.

His uniform, including arm bracers and finger guards, were quickly donned and his plain long-sleeved jacket hid the trademark outfit. The earpiece remained securely in his jacket for now.

Clint anticipated being able to return to retrieve the rest of his gear before he was picked up, but experience taught him not to depend on that opportunity. All the essentials were carefully packed together and he slung everything in a single strap bag across his back before checking his bow and quiver.

For the sake of not terrifying the public were he to walk around with the arrows clearly visible he capped the top over the quiver to hide the arrows and folded his bow carefully, sliding it into its own place in a holster on the small of his back. The quiver was also sling across his back and he turned to inspect the room again.

The rifle was left behind, although he wiped the weapon down to remove his prints and hid the ammunition separate from the gun. Anything he wasn't taking with him but could be tied to his identity or to SHIELD was placed in a special trashcan that each SHIELD room was required to have. The bin sealed once it was activated and incinerated the contents completely within twenty minutes.

Satisfied, he left the room, locking it behind him, and took the stairs down to the ground floor before walking back out onto the street and heading toward Romanoff's place.

He knew her apartment like the back of his hand. She didn't go back every night; this was one of several safe houses he had followed her to over the last fifteen days. Romanoff had been carefully restocking, no predictable pattern discernable in the beginning as to when she'd go to which location.

He smirked as he turned the corner, with each safe house she used a slightly different manner of entrance, he assumed that each location had the other entrances booby-trapped to discourage snoopers. This particular apartment was on the fifth floor, east side on the corner of the building. He liked this one the best because there was a roof opposite with a perfect view of one of the windows, even when the curtains were firmly closed shut.

SHIELD had tracked her to this location but he still hadn't been able to discover her mission. Whatever was going on here was a mystery, and SHIELD hadn't picked up any recent chatter regarding Poland or the Black Widow.

Something about that felt off but he didn't allow himself to think about it for too long. He had his hands full with fucking up his own mission.

He had mostly observed her in what could be called 'normal' activities. She shopped for necessities, went to her connections for supplies and things that civilian stores didn't sell, trained obsessively, and tried to throw him off her trail.

It had only taken her two days to pick up on his presence, although he knew she didn't actually know who was following her. He had allowed her to wander farther occasionally without his direct eye, letting her think she threw him off before catching up.

It helped that people, even trained assassins like her, didn't look up nearly as often as they should. His gain.

This apartment would be more troublesome than one of the others because it required a decent amount of grace and acrobatics to enter. He was comfortable with the acrobatics, but she was much lighter on her feet and moved more fluidly than he could ever hope to.

Also, she had only entered this location once so he had to follow everything exactly to be sure nothing was disturbed. He couldn't be sure if something she did while entering was an idiosyncrasy or actually necessary to make it in without disturbing the trap.

Still, he had to make the approach tonight if he hoped to make contact with Phil by his self-imposed deadline.

The fire escape only went to the fourth floor, with a ladder coming down from the fifth floor that had to be lowered from the roof. It was possible for someone on the fifth floor to reach when they were coming down, but for someone climbing up it would be extremely difficult.

Romanoff had free-scaled the building when he watched her so he had to do the same. It was very possible that forcing the ladder would leave some kind of trace behind that she would notice. Plus Clint was a decent climber so it wasn't particularly hard to hoist himself up to the roof.

From there she had jimmied the window open from above and lowered herself down and through the open window. Clint knew he had to open the window further if he was going to make it through and he couldn't see any immediate triggers on the window that could register it being open more than usual.

He pulled his gloves on to hide any smudges he might leave on the window and carefully raised it open. It took a lot of patience and strength to slowly work his way through the window and he had to be mindful of leaving any thing behind which might give away his presence.

To his chagrin he ended up landing solidly on his ass once he was clear of the window. Glad that Coulson wasn't in his ear to hear that embarrassment he inspected the window and carefully closed it.

He moved silently through the small apartment, knife in hand to check any potential hiding spots for enemies. It was clear so he went to the next step and tried to locate hidden weapons.

He almost laughed in amusement at the number of weapons he found. It seemed they both liked to squirrel away guns and knives like other people would hold onto photographs or books.

It would be impossible to find all her weapons in the time he had, so he focused on those areas that would be within her immediate range when she entered the room and cleared that zone, as well as the surrounding areas of as many weapons as he could find. He cleared them all to the furthest corner from the window and unloaded all of the guns as well.

The machete he found had puzzled him but he put it with the rest as he took up a position out of the line of sight of the window but still close and hunkered down to wait. His knife went back into its sheath on his chest and the machete was on the ground away from any light it might reflect.

He expected her to be armed when she entered so he made sure his position could provide cover if she became a little trigger-happy.

As a sniper he was very comfortable with waiting silently in one position for extended amounts of time and he was accustomed to letting his mind wander even as he remained fully alert.

He ended up thinking about what Fury's reaction to this would be. Romanoff had been a major thorn in SHIELD's side for a long time and she had a lot of kills under her belt. Many of those were SHIELD agents, and where her hand wasn't directly involved, the Agency was still responsible.

It would take a lot of effort to make Fury see the potential benefits and he knew he'd pay for this with some miserable missions and a lot of dull meetings. If he was really mad he might make Clint redo parts of the agent training, which had been hell enough the first time.

Coulson would be more controlled but still pissed. He'd see the benefits before Fury did because Phil was annoyingly practical like that. Clint liked to think that he'd get a small frown and a disapproving tone for the immediate reaction.

He knew at this point that Phil would definitely chew him out in private but he liked it most when his handler showed his emotions so it had become his own personal challenge to scare Phil enough to make him show those feelings.

The man was too controlled. It was something that Clint had immediately hated when he first met the man but later he'd come to deeply respect Coulson's restraint and level head.

In his first couple of years at SHIELD, fresh from being out on his own and acting however he wanted, the rules and regulations had chaffed him unbelievably and his only relief came from tormenting his handlers and partners.

Never anything that actually put anyone in unnecessary danger because Clint was always professional when it came to the job. If the job just happened to allow some leeway then he'd gladly pull at that for all it was worth.

Putting him and Coulson together had been Fury's last attempt on both of their parts. Both men were too good at what they did to be reassigned or terminated but for very different reasons no one else could work well with them. Coulson interacted with more people than Clint had to, but there was something about Phil's almost robotic mannerisms that rubbed his previous assets the wrong way.

Clint was always confused as to how Coulson's detachment in a field like theirs was a bad thing, but he wasn't complaining. Their partnership had taken a lot of time to work. It had endured ups and downs, mostly downs, before they both agreed to make some small changes for the betterment of the other. Of course, Coulson had made most of those changes at first.

It took Clint several months to see that Coulson was doing these things on purpose; making sure he had rooftop access whenever possible, had supplies waiting in his room when Clint had turned down medical treatment for manageable wounds, kept them both from working with other assets or handlers who Clint couldn't tolerate even when pressured from Fury himself to behave.

In turn, Clint made a conscious effort to maintain contact with Coulson during missions. He wasn't used to seeking permission before acting, but Coulson again made the change easier by letting him take steps he felt necessary in the field as long as the mission got done in the end. He was conscious about not wasting supplies and he kept his training regime mostly contained to the specified rooms.

He knew Coulson took some shit from Fury for the relatively long leash that Coulson held him on, but the mission results spoke for itself and for the most part he and Phil were allowed to work without too much supervision.

A soft rattle outside drew his gaze immediately to the window and his mind shifted to focus completely on the situation at hand. From the little noise she made it sounded like she had just left the fire escape and was making her way to the roof.

He raised himself to a crouching position on the balls of his feet so he would be ready to spring up after she entered with minimal fuss. He had debated the best way to approach her and decided on close quarters to reduce the chance of her shooting him if he surprised her.

Sure enough two petite hands began to pull the window open from above and he slowed his breathing to deep and quiet breaths. Clint watched carefully as she swung herself through the window and closed it behind her. In the darkness he could make out her silhouette and he waited until her back was to him to make his move.

Silently exploding out of his position, he reached her with one step, his knife resting on her throat. She tensed and he didn't try to restrain her, although she shifted her right arm back towards his center and forced him to catch her wrist to avoid taking a knife to the gut.

His grip was firm and he added a little more pressure to the weapon at her throat. "Easy there," he said softly.

* * *

Always,

Sinkme


	2. Chapter 2

_Silently exploding out of his position, he reached her with one step, his knife resting on her throat. She tensed and he didn't try to restrain her, although she shifted her right arm back towards his center and forced him to catch her wrist to avoid taking a knife to the gut._

_His grip was firm and he added a little more pressure to the weapon at her throat. "Easy there," he said softly._

* * *

She was breathing loudly, angry now. "Drop the knife," he said firmly.

Romanoff tensed again so he squeezed her wrist and forced her to drop it to the floor.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" he kept his tone light, unthreatening, and even to avoid startling her anymore. He knew how dangerous this woman could be.

"I'm not here to kill you Natasha. I'm just here to talk."

"So talk," she bit out, still tense against him.

Deciding to take a leap of faith he moved the knife off her throat slowly and released her wrist. He knew she had at least one gun and used his now free hand to remove the one he could see at her hip.

At the touch she spun around, pushing his arm and the knife away from her completely as she turned to elbow him in the stomach and jump back.

He groaned softly but held himself in check, unwilling to devolve into a fight now.

She stood in the middle of the room while he was still by the window. He held her eyes the whole time as he crouched down to place the gun on the floor and kick it under the couch to his right. His knife he returned to its place on his chest and he put his hands up to show he meant no more harm.

He could see her eyes darting around the room so he said quietly, "I moved your backup weapons. You can't reach them. I just need you to listen to me."

If looks could kill he definitely would have dropped dead but he got worse from Coulson on a good day. "SHIELD has been watching you for awhile, Natasha. You've pissed off some pretty dangerous people. I know you hate working for the Agency-"

Her body tensed again and he wondered if he overstepped but she remained silent.

"I'm here to offer you a way out. A position with SHIELD."

She laughed and the sudden sound caught him off guard. "You have no idea what's really going on here."

"I know you could use a friend," he returned. He paused to take in her posture; still tense, still looking around for a weapon but also checking each of the exits obsessively.

His mind raced as he watched her, trying to pinpoint what had been bothering him this whole time and he took a chance.

"They're coming for you, aren't they?"

Still standing as taut as a strung bow she favored him with an eye roll, "Took you long enough. I thought SHIELD prided itself on its information. Obviously Fury overestimates himself if you didn't already know that I left the Agency."

She paused mid-thought, "Who are you, anyway; why did SHIELD suddenly decide to approach me now?"

He couldn't help himself; despite the seriousness of the situation he allowed a wounded look to cross his face as a hand came up to his heart, "I'm hurt you don't recognize me. I thought the Agency had intelligent assets."

He could feel her sizing him up and he said mockingly, "Let me give you a hint."

Keeping his right hand held out to placate her, his left hand retrieved his bow and snapped it into place.

"Barton."

A cocky smirk lit up his face and he inclined his head in a sardonic salute before returning his bow to its place and getting back to business. "So what are we dealing with? Why have they waited so long to get you?"

"First of all there's no 'we,' Robin Hood," her voice was like ice but Clint hardly batted an eyelash at the tone or the nickname. "You can turn right around and go back to SHIELD alone because I'm not joining your little club. I can handle this."

He continued to ignore her words and focused again on the way her body was positioned. Everything hit him at once and his voice cut across her, serious and calm.

"You're scared. Don't deny it, any idiot could tell. You've been running for a while, that's why we haven't heard anything. The Agency's trying to keep this quiet, they're trying to hide the fact that they lost you and they want to fix this before it gets out. You hate working for them and you hate being alone and on the run so stop fucking pretending to be strong and in control because I'm standing here and I'm offering you a chance to start over."

She didn't reply but her eyes bored into his, trying to see something. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet but full of venom, "You know nothing. Don't pretend to know me. I'm not some little girl in over her head that needs someone to rescue her. And you're definitely not white knight material."

Movement in the corner of his eye silenced any response he might have given and he automatically crouched and turned to the window to assess the situation. Watching carefully he counted four men coming down the alley, each of them moving precisely and keeping to the shadows to avoid detection.

"They're com- Fuck!"

He realized as he ducked too late that he had wrongly categorized Romanoff as a friendly and she had taken advantage of his lapse. She was already coming out of her crouch as she picked up her knife and launched her attack.

The only reason his throat hadn't been cut was his reflexes; the instant he noticed her movement he launched himself to the side to create more space and moved his head out of range. As it was, the knife had caught him on his unprotected shoulder as his arms had come up to protect his face and neck.

"Fuck, Romanoff!" He delivered a solid roundhouse kick to her stomach to push her back and give him time to recover.

By the time she looked back up at him he had an arrow loaded and aimed at her. "We don't have time for any more of that bullshit. The Agency is here and whether or not you decide to come with me after, we both need to get out of here," his tone was deadly. "Your weapons are behind the sofa. Take what you need and then we'll head to the roof."

She was unapologetic even though she did as he instructed. "The roof isn't the best escape route. We'll be easy targets from up there."

He lowered his bow although he kept the arrow in place and replied, "There's at least four men in the alley and probably more than that coming up the stairs and guarding the elevator. We won't get past them in the hall once they set up so the best chance we have is to get to the roof and assess the situation from there."

"Unless they have agents on the roof as well," she commented as she grabbed another gun. "Why the fuck did you take out all the ammo?"

He just smiled, "For my part I think I can handle the couple of agents they might have on the roof. Plus there won't be any worry about civilians getting in the way if we do it on the roof."

She was doing a final equipment check and snorted, "Boy Scout." He reached under the couch and picked up the gun he'd kicked there earlier. Holding it out to her he watched her brow furrow in confusion.

"Practical," he returned as he looked back out the window to the alley.

"Here," he turned at her word and barely caught the bandages she threw at his head.

He cocked an eyebrow, "For me? You shouldn't have."

"You're useless if you keep bleeding and like you said- we're stuck together for now."

"I'm touched," he replied sarcastically. He wasn't thrilled about putting his bow down after she had already attacked him once but he didn't show it.

After a minute he had the still bleeding cut wrapped as best he could. "Ready?"

She rolled her eyes again and went to the door. He watched as she disarmed the trip wire and what looked like a small explosive attached, he rolled his eyes at her over-the-top design, and then she pushed it open. The door swung open silently and she peeked out cautiously, checking and then double-checking before making her move.

He followed silently, unconsciously alternating positions at her back to cover her if an enemy were to appear in the hall.

From her irritated look she'd caught on to his movements but said nothing as they made their way to the roof via the small stairwell.

There was no movement from below, so either the Agency was incompetent and didn't have this set of stairs covered- unlikely- or they had already reached the room and were setting up from there to cut off potential escape routes.

Again she took the lead and glanced through the crack as she opened the door. He covered the stairwell entrance they had come in through, ready for any movement or threat.

She hissed quietly to get his attention and motioned with her hands. Seven fingers went up and she shot him an annoyed look.

He just smirked and whispered, "I bet I get more than you."

Romanoff didn't answer, although Clint could see she was considering the challenge. The distant sound of a door being broken down reminded them of the urgency and he let her jump through the door first.

She charged the closest target and he took down one guy before he even cleared the door. He was reloading and picked a man further away who looked to be raising a comm. device.

He quickly silenced the threat and turned to engage another one who approached him. He didn't feel like wasting an arrow so he went hand-to-hand, using his bow as an extension of his arm.

He couldn't see Natasha, but from the grunts of pain he could hear she was handling herself just fine. Clint saw an opening in the man's guard and pulled back a step to get enough room to draw his knife. The guy stepped in, thinking he had the advantage, and Clint calmly dodged the punch and opened the man's neck.

He turned to look for what had to be the last man or two, assuming that Natasha had managed to get at least as many as he had.

She was about to get the last one when an arrow sprouted from his chest. Annoyed she looked at Clint.

He just smiled wide, "I win."

"Moron."

He had scoped the building out enough to know the best escape route from the roof and obviously Natasha did as well. She went to check the other sides of the building while he set up on the side they would make their jump.

From his perch he cleared the alley below, carefully and quickly picking off his targets to reduce any potential noise that they would make- either from falling dead or from calling to a fellow agent after seeing one of their own drop dead.

Natasha finished her recon on the other sides and joined Clint. He could feel her behind him as he made his last shot and lowered his bow. "Shall we?"

They jumped to an adjoining roof and took off running, jumping several more roofs and putting as much distance as possible between them and the building that was now sure to be crawling with Agency guns.

When they made it as far as they could on the roofs they climbed down a fire escape to the ground, quickly concealing their weapons and trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

They remained in the alley as Clint pulled out his earpiece and brought it to life. "Barton here."

"Mission completed?"

"Yes sir, I have Romanoff. We're awaiting pickup and- oof!"

* * *

I wanted to take a quick second to thank everyone who read and especially if you subscribed in some way or reviewed! I PM'ed everyone I could but for those of you that I couldn't- including my three anonymous reviewers and one who I couldn't message- thank you!

And I wanted to clear something up because it was asked- this is not going to be Clint/Coulson slash. It probably won't even Clint/Natasha. I suck at writing romances so this story is solely focusing on the backstory and friendships. I'm sorry if people wanted the romance- I promise it would be awful if I wrote it but I hope you still enjoy the story anyway!

Always

Sinkme


	3. Chapter 3

_They remained in the alley as Clint pulled out his earpiece and brought it to life. "Barton here."_

_"Mission completed?"_

_"Yes sir, I have Romanoff. We're awaiting pickup and- oof!"_

* * *

His breath was knocked out of him with a solid knee to his solar plexus. Winded, he finished his transmission weakly, "Hold that thought Coulson," and then clicked the device off again.

"You really need to stop attacking me" he coughed.

"I'm not going in with you," Romanoff's eyes were bright but her face was set and firm.

As with most women, especially in this profession, her actions spoke volumes over her words. The fact that she hadn't followed up her attack, taken him out when she had the chance and simply walked away meant that a part of her wanted to go with him.

His words, when he spoke, were quiet, "What else are you gonna do? You pissed off the Agency and pretty much every group before them. Your work with the Agency was the only thing keeping everyone else off your back so for you to do something to make the Agency want you dead either means that you're an idiot- which you aren't- or you have a death wish- which I don't think you do. You just can't see the secret third option. Which is why I'm here waving it in front of your face like a fucking red cape for a bull."

"I've killed SHIELD agents and ruined a lot of ops for you," she was grasping at excuses and they both knew it. That final realization brought a wave of calm rushing through him; he was glad he had read her right.

He'd been in her same place before, a little less severe to be sure, but no less terrifying. SHIELD had offered him a chance to do something good. To be useful. To be needed. So he knew beyond a doubt that she wanted to take this chance and get away from all the shit she'd dealt with because of the Agency. That didn't mean that she wasn't scared to make that leap though.

"Agents have gotten their partners killed and ruined missions. At least we knew you were a threat when we went into the field. It's the job. They wouldn't have sent me to watch you and bring you in if they weren't serious."

He was desperate to get her behind him on this. If she didn't agree and show that she wanted this there was no way he'd get Coulson and Fury to back him.

"I won't do any joint missions. I work alone." Her voice was flat and her eyes betrayed nothing but there was a subtle relaxation in her posture, as though a big weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

"I gathered that much from your name, Black Widow," he mocked and reconnected his comm.

"Coulson."

"Barton, I want a sit rep _now_." Clint winced; Coulson was a little mad.

"Romanoff is with me and has agreed to come in." He had to be careful with his words since Natasha could hear everything he said.

"What do you mean she's with you? Your mission was to take her out."

"Yes sir, she's willing to talk about becoming an asset."

"Barton this isn't funny. Director Fury won't accept this, let alone the Council."

"I know Coulson. This was unexpected but overall I think it's for the best."

He could hear Coulson sigh, could practically see the man's deepening frown lines from here.

"Fine. Meet at the agreed rendezvous point. Transportation will be ready. I assume she doesn't know that you were sent to take her out?"

"Affirmative. We'll head to the location. Barton out."

He turned back to her, "See?" he smiled. "No worries. They'll be ready for us at the meeting point just outside of the city. I have a bike."

"So do I." He was gratified to see a smile playing around the corner of her lips.

He smirked predatorily, "Then let's see if you can keep up."

To his amusement, she ended up being better at handling a motorcycle than him by a long shot. She gave a little victorious smirk when they pulled up to the clearing and turned the bikes off.

They made it to the pickup point with no major incidents- minor traffic violations hardly counted- and made their way over to the helicopter.

The bikes were left behind, wiped for prints and quickly cleaned off, and they boarded the craft and took off almost immediately.

The pilot was familiar with Clint and gave him an irritated look for burdening him with an extra passenger. Clint just clapped him on the shoulder and pulled on the co-pilot headset. He tossed an extra set of ear covers to Romanoff but she didn't acknowledge him as she slipped them on.

He hoped she wasn't having second thoughts, but at this point it was out of his control so he focused on the flight.

The Helicarrier was on the water at the moment- easier to land aircrafts when it was at sea- and he could see Coulson as they descended.

The man never exactly looked pleased but as he got closer it was clear that he was more pissed than Clint had seen him in awhile.

Natasha followed him like a shadow as they walked onto the Helicarrier behind Coulson, who had turned without a word to enter the facility.

They walked though the halls to a conference room where Coulson finally acknowledged them. "Miss Romanoff, please wait in here. After we debrief Agent Barton Director Fury and I will be in to speak with you."

She nodded and went in without protest, although her lips quirked in amusement when an agent stepped into place by the door to guard it.

Coulson walked away again and Clint looked back to Natasha, unsure exactly what emotions he was portraying but knowing that she could read _something_ from his face and body language.

He turned away abruptly and jogged to catch up to Coulson as he headed to Director Fury's private office.

_Damn, that means the Council's involved. _

Fury stood by his desk but the screen was not keyed up with the Council. Clint had only ever been in front of them once; from what Coulson and Hill told him these guys were real assholes and as a result he didn't have much respect for them.

"Barton. You wanna explain what the hell you were thinking?"

Director Fury's voice boomed throughout the room the second the door was closed.

Unwilling to do anything to piss Fury or Coulson off any more, he adopted the traditional soldier pose; legs at hip length apart, arms bent at the elbow, hands clasped behind his back, and addressed the director respectfully.

"In the process of carrying out my mission I became aware of some incongruous information which made me initially reconsider my orders, sir."

"Orders are not given to be reconsidered, _agent_."

"Yes, sir."

"What did you learn, Barton?" Coulson stepped in.

"I observed Romanoff for six days as requested and noticed that her behavior was not consistent with her usual MO. She was going back and forth between apartments, stocking each location carefully and always alert for potential tails. With your permission, Director Fury, I observed her for an additional ten days, at which point I knew for a fact that she had not made contact with the Agency or any agents at any point."

Fury chewed over that information while Coulson spoke again. "Why did you approach her?"

"Romanoff could be a valuable asset. I wanted the chance to evaluate the situation from a closer perspective before I made the call. Had she still been an Agency asset I would have eliminated her. I was able to make contact and control the situation at which time she confirmed my suspicions."

"Which were what?" Fury was losing patience.

"Romanoff is longer tied to the Agency. Her location in Warsaw was not a mission, it was a retreat. She was running from them and establishing potential safe houses to return to later." He savored the look of surprise on Fury's face and the brief flash of understanding on Coulson's.

"Why didn't you make contact with us immediately after?" Coulson again.

"After I spoke with Romanoff enemy agents began to close in on our position. We were able to get to the roof and establish a minimum safe distance before I contacted you, sir."

Coulson remained silent as they both waited for Fury's decision.

"You are aware that this could be a trick to get her in?"

Clint shook his head, "I don't believe it is, sir. I will take full responsibility for her presence here and any action she takes that is out of line."

He could hear Coulson's breath hitch and Fury spoke, "Think carefully about that decision, Agent Barton."

"I don't need to, sir. I believe Romanoff will be a valuable asset."

He saw Fury shoot a look at Coulson but neither man spoke for several mintues.

"Very well. I'll back this. But you'll face the consequences for anything she does. One step out of line, and it's your ass." Fury moved behind his desk to bring the Council up on the screen.

Coulson took several steps back to be out of the way; he was strictly an observer at this point.

Clint stood tall, aware of the bloody bandage around his arm, the fact that he hadn't showered or slept in over a day, and that he was still in mission clothes with his quiver on his back. Despite all that he looked at each Council member carefully, unashamed of his ragged appearance and silently observing anything which might be useful.

Fury addressed them, "As you know, Agent Barton was assigned the mission to take out Natasha Romanoff, also known as Black Widow. He recently returned and brought her back with him as an asset."

Each Council member immediately sat up straighter and the man in the center spoke in a rushed voice, "That is unacceptable. Your orders were clear, agent. Director Fury, eliminate Romanoff. We will decide disciplinary action for Agent Barton later."

Clint stepped forward, uncaring if he was offending the social niceties in this situation. "Sir, I don't think you fully understand the situation. Romanoff came in willingly and has cut her ties to the Agency. She's agreed to become an asset."

That shut them up, although the Councilman eyed him angrily.

A woman on his left spoke, "When did she leave the Agency? We have no intelligence on this matter."

"At least three weeks ago, ma'am. She was in Warsaw establishing safe houses and supplying them for later. At this time I do not know why she left. But it is clear that the Agency has been keeping it quiet to prevent other organizations from learning about her defection and potentially moving to acquire her or taking steps against the Agency while it is temporarily weakened."

"If she's willing to become an asset then it would be a waste to kill her at this point. She's extremely skilled at what she does," the woman continued. A quick glance at the screen revealed nothing of the rest of the Council's feelings. A full minute of silence passed before they got a reaction.

The man spoke up again, "The Council will support this on two conditions."

Clint was immediately wary; Coulson had told him once that the Council had to have each member agree to a proposal before they would pass it. That system was part of the reason why Director Fury disagreed with them so often. Simply put it usually took some time before everyone was on board with a plan which led to complications in the field for the agents and for Director Fury.

The man speaking had been firmly against Natasha joining as an agent only two minutes ago. He'd changed his mind much too quickly for Clint to be entirely comfortable with these conditions.

Something was up. He knew Coulson and Fury were similarly alert, but they could only stand and listen.

"First, Romanoff is to be carefully monitored for at least four months, at which time all outside communication and interactions are forbidden, and she undergoes standard training to evaluate potential weaknesses that we are unaware of as well as to judge her dedication to this organization."

Fury stepped up, "Done."

"Second, Agent Barton agrees to a mission of our choosing both as punishment for defying orders and as proof of his belief that Romanoff will be a valuable asset to the organization."

_There it is. First the carrot and now the stick. _

Clint knew something would be awful about this mission, otherwise they wouldn't have held it in reserve and doled it out as punishment. They clearly had an assignment already in mind. But if they needed the mission done that badly he might have a little leverage.

He could feel both Coulson and Fury at his back and knew they'd want him to demand more information but at this point he had something he cared about more, "Done, with one condition of my own."

The man looked more than a little annoyed but it was the Councilwoman from before who spoke, "What is it, agent?"

"Romanoff is not aware that I went against orders to bring her in as an asset. I request that the details of this mission be kept confidential and that she is not told that I was originally sent to Warsaw to kill her."

"Very well. Agent Coulson, you are excused."

He felt Phil lightly pat his shoulder as he left, a promise to talk later, before he left the room.

A quick glance at Fury showed the man's anger, both at his own hasty actions and at the Council for putting them in this position.

"Agent Barton, you are hereby instructed to report to Dornbirn, Austria and monitor the recent activity along the border."

"Activity by who, sir?" He wasn't feeling so great about this all of a sudden.

"HYDRA." Yep, this definitely sucked.


	4. Chapter 4

_"Agent Barton, you are hereby instructed to report to Dornbirn, Austria and monitor the recent activity along the border."_

_"Activity by who, sir?" He wasn't feeling so great about this all of a sudden._

_"HYDRA." Yep, this definitely sucked._

* * *

Fury immediately stepped up, "Council, I think you should reconsider t-"

"This is not up for discussion. Agent Barton, prepare for an extended mission. Radio transmissions will occur once a week to reduce the chance of detection. All other communication is forbidden unless you are requesting emergency evacuation. This is a strictly observatory mission, Agent Barton. Am I understood?"

"Yes sir," he ground out. _Fucking HYDRA with no backup. Fantastic._

"Good. Prepare to depart; you leave tomorrow. Dismissed."

He ignored the four Council members and gave a polite nod to Fury before leaving. Coulson was waiting outside the door.

"Director Fury and I need to talk to Romanoff. Go to medical in the meantime."

"Medical?" Despite years of experience with the man, for some reason he hadn't expected Coulson to be so calm.

Coulson tapped- none too lightly- the wound on his arm and he bit back a hiss. "Fuck, Coulson. Use your words if you're angry."

As if to spite him, Coulson made a shooing motion with his hands and remained by the door to wait for Fury.

"Fine, fine." Clint waited until he was a little further down the hall before turning quickly and tossing over his shoulder. "By the way, I'm leaving tomorrow on an extended mission to keep an eye on HYDRA so you might not hear from me for awhile."

Coulson's yell of, "Barton!" followed him down the hall, but he knew that Phil would track him down before he left. And this saved him the trouble of going over the details; Coulson would get everything from Fury now.

He took a detour to talk to Romanoff before he headed to medical. He'd most likely spend a good part of his day there- he'd been avoiding a physical for the last couple of weeks- and after that he'd need to prepare and be briefed on the mission before leaving.

The guard let him in when he approached the door and he found Natasha sitting serenely at the table.

"Hey," he said lamely and then recovered. "Coulson and Director Fury should be here soon. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

She scoffed, "I don't need you checking up on me Boy Scout."

"You looked pretty nervous on the ride over here. Just don't do anything dumb like rethink this decision." He caught her eyes and held them. "I've been in your place. And the beginning sucks. You're gonna want to bolt every day. Don't listen to them when they say it'll get easier eventually. You'll be doing training for a while and that'll suck and continue to suck until you think you'll snap and kill everyone here. But then training ends and everything will fall into place. You'll be glad you're here once you're an agent."

She didn't say anything but he could tell she was listening. "Just remember that. And don't fuck this up. Coulson's a good guy; he'll be monitoring you."

"Where are you going?" she finally spoke.

He smirked, trying to play it off, "The big guys want to talk to you. And I gotta get this thing looked at." He shifted his arm to remind her of the wound she inflicted.

A brief glimmer of guilt flashed in her eyes, so quickly that he almost didn't believe it was there before she covered it up. "Not that. You sound like you're saying goodbye. Tired of me already?"

"You wish. I got my own shit to take care of and other things to prepare for. Don't you worry about me Nat, I can handle myself." He winked at her and smirked. "A Boy Scout's always prepared." He gave her one last look and left, unsure as to why he hadn't told her he'd be gone for months on this shitty mission.

Turning the corner to head to medical, he decided for the moment to shove all thoughts of Natasha Romanoff out of his head and focus on the upcoming mission.

The doctors in medical were the best in their respective fields. He was first patched up by a nurse- his shoulder ended up needing ten stitches- and then directed to an examination room for his bimonthly physical.

In this line of work, everyone had to be in top shape to be sent out into the field. All SHIELD agents were required to have physicals once every two months on top of any work they had done as a result of injury on a mission; this was the only place he knew of that cared for their agents to that level.

It was routine and boring, but Clint was glad for the little distraction that the exam gave him. When he was given the green light to leave he headed to his room to prepare.

The first, and in his mind, most, important step was to check his weapons.

It was technically against the rules to stow extra weapons in one's room, but that was something that most agents, and frankly almost everyone who worked for SHIELD, did and handlers generally overlooked it. Clint's closet was more filled with extra arrows than it was with clothes.

He methodically unwound his bow and took out the cleaning supplies. Wiping it down and ensuring no inch was left uncovered, he let his mind go blank as his hands kept up the motions.

When the bow was done he removed the arrows from his quiver and did a visual and physical examination to ensure there were no dents before he cleaned it as well.

The arrows he brought back from the mission were similarly inspected and then everything was prepared for the trip.

He grabbed an extra quiver full with arrows as backup; since the mission was supposed to be strictly recon he hoped he wouldn't need more. He grabbed a go-bag with a few guns. He checked and cleaned them periodically on his down time so that they would be ready in the event that he needed them quickly.

He preferred his bow; he was more precise with it and had better range and control. But it was noticeable. It was his signature. Not too many other guys used arrows to kill so it could be a risk taking his bow on this mission. But where he needed stealth, his bow gave him a way to kill quickly and quietly. Guns with silencers had a limited close-quarter range. He needed something better.

His knife had some blood dried around it so he cleaned that as well and laid it on his bed. His backup gun, carefully stowed on his left ankle at all times, he disassembled and cleaned as well. It was a Hail Mary weapon so he didn't bother packing any backup rounds.

Satisfied with his weapons he took a quick visit down to the tech center to get some more bugs and equipment. With luck he'd be able to locate HYDRA's stronghold and sneak in to set up the devices, then spend the rest of the time hiding out safely away and listening. When he returned he assembled the rest of his gear.

Extra clothes and uniforms, arm guards, finger splints, medical supplies, backup comm. device, nutritional supplements- he inwardly groaned while packing those, they tasted like shit- some small explosives and detonators, and a pocket German-English guide.

His German was very good but he would most likely be posing as an American tourist. A cover would be necessary for when he had to get supplies from nearby. With an extended mission like this there was no way he'd go the whole time without being seen.

It would be better to establish himself in a non-threatening identity from the beginning than for HYDRA to suddenly realize he'd been in town for weeks with no idea who he was. That was a good way to get killed.

Finally satisfied, he stripped out of his uniform and took a hot shower, ignoring the doctor's instructions about his stitches; he'd had them often enough to know what his body could handle. All the same he dried his arm carefully after and crashed for the night despite the early afternoon hour.

A buzzing filled his room; he recognized the sound of the intercom a split second after he grabbed the knife by his bed.

It was a sucky way to wake up, especially at- _Fuck Coulson, really?_- 4:30am on the dot. He idly wondered if Coulson was so neurotic that he automatically woke up when he meant to down to the second, or if the man woke up beforehand and sat in the dark just staring at his clock until it was time so Clint wouldn't get an extra moment of sleep.

He pulled himself out of bed to turn the intercom off and plunged the room back into silence.

SHIELD had obviously learned the hard way not to send actual people to wake up agents because when Clint had first come to the base all the rooms already had the internal intercom system established. For most people it would only be used for emergency situations.

For Clint and many other agents, it was a safer way to wake them up or check on them rather than sending in someone who would probably earn some form of bodily harm. And that was only if they were lucky. He was sure at least one person had been killed waking up an agent in the middle of the night before they switched to the intercoms.

He suited up, wrapping his stitches with care, and grabbed his gear. Both quivers were slung over his back, which was a little uncomfortable but not worth adjusting or thinking about further. The rest of his supplies were in a duffle he carried over his other shoulder.

Coulson was waiting in their usual briefing room and he entered quietly.

"You don't have to do this Clint."

He sat down across the table, "I know. But I can't turn it down now."

"Yes you can. We'll find another way."

"Not just for Romanoff," he said, shaking his head. "HYDRA can't be allowed to run around unchecked. I'm one of the best agents we have." He shrugged his shoulders, not really bragging, just making a statement. "There's a good chance that this mission would have been assigned to me anyway. At least I get something out of this that I want."

Coulson was silent but he didn't look pleased.

"I spoke with Director Fury; you'll make your reports to me." Clint gave him a questioning look and Coulson understood. "The Council originally wanted to keep this in a small circle and planned for you to make contact with Director Fury. He was able to, ah, persuade them to let me function as your handler. I will report your findings to Director Fury and the Council together."

Clint smirked, knowing that Fury and Coulson had forced the Council into letting this happen. He was grateful to them both.

"What happened with Romanoff?"

"Director Fury and I spoke with her last night. As per your request, she is unaware that her acquisition was not your original mission and she's agreed to the terms outlined by the Council."

"What do you think, Phil?" He knew Coulson understood what he meant. _Did I make the right call?_

Coulson was quiet for several minutes but it didn't bother Clint. There was plenty of information to begin reading up on in preparation for his drop.

When he finally spoke his voice was as even as always, but there was a rare tone of warmth as well, "You did good, Clint. From my own evaluation she honestly wants to be here and is wiling to play by the rules until she can be declared an agent. It will take some time for her to adapt fully and not just go through the motions because we require her to do something. But I believe she'll get there."

His shoulders sagged in relief and Coulson commented, "You were really worried about her."

"You know why."

Coulson nodded.

They both knew that Clint had been just as emotionally messed up as Romanoff was when he had joined SHIELD. The organization had literally saved his life when they offered him a position and hadn't tossed him to the side when he bucked under the restraints in the beginning.

It wasn't something he could put into words but Coulson understood. In time, so would Natasha.

"It also helped her case that she had a lot of information on the Agency and a thumb drive of the last six months worth of clients and business transactions."

Clint knew the shock was plain on his face and Coulson cracked a small smile. "She gave it over on her own. I take it you were unaware that she had it in her possession?"

"That's one way of saying it," he was still surprised.

"Hm. Well, let's get to it. Your plane leaves in an hour," Coulson nodded to the documents in Clint's hands.

"There is a house in the mountains already established and fully equipped with supplies and security measures."

Clint cocked an eyebrow questioningly and Coulson shrugged. "The Council has had their eye on the situation for quite some time apparently. The house was acquired recently but agents have been in and out over the last two weeks fitting it for use and enabling several other useful features."

"No one's seen them going in and out right?" He desperately hoped HYDRA wasn't already aware of house's location. Security wouldn't be enough if he was the only one to man the fort.

"Definitely not. The area was heavily scouted before each trip and lookout teams were in position. There was no trace of any HYDRA operatives so you'll have to find them yourself."

He rolled his eyes, "Wouldn't want to make this too easy, would we?"

Coulson pressed on, "You'll pose as an American writer on holiday. Keep a low profile and make sure people don't see you too often. You'll have a bike and a primary location in the mountains."

Coulson pulled out a detailed map of the area, focusing around the border with Germany and pointed with a finger, "You'll be dropped at Vorarlberg, here, and we've arranged transportation to Dornbirn, your safe house and secondary location. Establish your presence there and then move to your primary location in the Zugspitze mountains. Part of the mountain spans across the Austrian-German border but it isn't manned so HYDRA has been using it as an access point. There is also a chance that they have established a base as well, so use extreme caution."

Clint nodded, following along with Coulson and committing everything to memory. He turned back to the documents and reports, skimming them briefly for vital information. He wouldn't be able to bring any of the information with him into the country so he had to memorize everything by the time he landed.

"Easy as pie." He smiled.

Coulson didn't.

* * *

Thanks once again to everyone who subscribed either with an alert or a favorite and especially to everyone who reviewed!

Always,

Sinkme


	5. Chapter 5

_Clint nodded, following along with Coulson and committing everything to memory. He turned back to the documents and reports, skimming them briefly for vital information. He wouldn't be able to bring any of the information with him into the country so he had to memorize everything by the time he landed._

_"Easy as pie." He smiled._

_Coulson didn't._

* * *

There hadn't been any trouble getting to his place in Dornbirn. He'd been dropped off at a remote airport and taken a taxi to the little town. He walked all around the area to get a better idea of what it was like and Clint had made sure to talk to an elderly couple on the way, asking for directions to his place and then about the weather in the mountains, casually mentioning he might go up for 'inspiration.'

The old woman had pinched his cheek and told him the mountains were lovely this time of year.

He was overjoyed.

He gave it two days of scoping out the town and getting actual food for the trip instead of his pre-packaged meals before he went to the edge of town and found his bike.

SHIELD had modified the vehicle to make much less noise, which in his mind took out most of the fun, but in this case he'd make that sacrifice.

The mountains were actually very nice, he noted sourly as he followed the road up. The snow hadn't touched this area and it was heavily wooded with big thick trees and undergrowth.

He would have to walk about three miles off the path to his location, which meant finding a safe place to hide the bike.

That had taken him all of ten minutes before he got to walking. He would have liked to enjoy the scenery and take a relaxing walk. Instead, because there was a chance that HYDRA agents were lurking around anywhere in the mountains, he ended up spending the entire afternoon running from one spot of cover to another all the while with an arrow notched in his bow.

It made for very slow going.

Cursing the Council and HYDRA, he almost sighed in relief when he saw what would be his safe house for the foreseeable future.

He did a sweep of the perimeter, noting the location of the sensor devices that were built in around the house and surrounding area and looked for any potential blind spots.

Satisfied, he opened a panel on the wall and pressed his palm into the reader. It took only seconds to scan and accept his prints; the door opened and he walked in.

There was a deadbolt and a door latch, which he immediately utilized despite the hand scanner, and his first step, after shucking his gear, was to find the computer and security system and boot them up.

He wanted to be as secure as possible.

There was no internet connection, hence nothing to be traced to the location, and the monitors were filled with shots of the perimeter.

Running a critical eye over the displays, he tried to determine if there were any blind spots or weak points; he hadn't seen any from outside but in this situation being careful couldn't be underrated.

To make security easier the house was one floor only. A huge house out here would be noticeable, so at first glance it would appear to be a quaint retirement lodge. Although it looked to be in disrepair, the exterior was in fact more secure than many modern houses.

The walls were reinforced and the windows were bullet-resistant. The foundation was solid and there were no access points into the house aside from controlled areas that were under constant surveillance.

If necessary there was roof access, but it wouldn't be easy to get to, nor would it provide any adequate cover; it was a last-ditch escape route if a ground force had him pinned down.

There was a basement, more of a bunker, as a last resort in case of an assault or ambush that cut off access to the roof or if an escape from the house was impossible. A panic room was hidden in the corner, accessible by another hand scanner, and once it was sealed it was completely inaccessible until the access codes were used from the outside.

He tried not to think about the circumstances that would necessitate the use of that room as he checked the stock of food and supplies in the room and the basement. After that he methodically swept the rest of the house, checking everything over and ensuring nothing was out of place.

Clint rolled out his equipment and made himself at home, or as close to home, as possible.

He'd taken a whole day to explore the area around his safe house, trying to learn as much as he could about the area before beginning to venture outside. Each time he moved out he tried to envision the area in his head, creating concentric circles radiating out from the safe house as he moved further away.

He wasn't the greatest tracker, despite his keen eyes, but even he could see that there had been a lot of traffic through this area recently.

The footprints weren't deep and the ground was fairly soft, so it didn't look as though they were transporting anything heavy. There was no sign of any vehicle marks, and from the path that had been beaten into the ground it looked like they were using the same routes.

Either they were being sloppy or confident; whichever it was, it worked to Clint's benefit.

He followed the path down the mountain first, taking a chance. He had no idea what kind of patterns or time schedule they followed. Just because it was morning didn't mean that they were starting their day like he was. They could just as easily be crossing over the mountain into Germany as they could be leaving Germany or even staying in some secret base.

He was flying blind and he hated it.

Being most familiar with the journey up the mountain, though, he stuck to his decision and carefully followed the path back down the mountain. It was slow going, as he knew the majority of this mission would be, as he had to find adequate cover for his trip while keeping the path in sight.

It was fairly straight, which he appreciated, but he was high-strung and hyper alert for any sounds that could indicate HYDRA agents.

Clint followed the path as closely as possible, making sure his breathing was even and quiet as he moved down the mountain.

He didn't hear or see anyone on his way down but that didn't bother him. It was early yet and it had only been three days since he'd arrived.

When he caught sight of the town at the base of the mountain he stopped his descent and looked for a good place to set up.

It was a good thing he had patience, because it was extremely dull work. He'd climbed a tree for the vantage point, giving him a greater line of sight down to the town and higher up the way he'd come down.

Watching everything carefully he sat and waited for anything.

He passed three more days in this way, scouting the trail up and down the mountain and looking out for anyone who walked it. On the third day two men left town following the path.

He saw them coming and checked the path for anyone else. Finding it clear he left his perch and made his way silently up the path further and laid in wait.

The men were average looking and wore nothing to indicate that they were HYDRA agents, but he wasn't expecting them to since they'd come from a civilian town.

He was annoyed when they passed by him silently. Clint had hoped to overhear something- anything- that might help or point to them being agents.

Nonetheless he followed behind them quietly, letting them get far enough away that they wouldn't hear any rustling he made as he moved.

The men were vigilant, each of them constantly scanning the area in front and around them for anything out of place. The way they moved and their alertness hinted at training.

_Gotcha._

He followed them for what he estimated to be two miles when they turned down an unfamiliar path. Cursing silently he waited for them to clear the immediate area before he bolted from his cover and crossed the path to follow them.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he peeked out to keep an eye on their progress and he took a deep breath when he saw they hadn't spotted him.

Clint kept following them, wary of a possible trap and taking his time as he walked through the un-scouted area. It made the hairs on the back of his neck raise and his fingers itched to hold his bow.

They came to an area that was semi-cleared. Trees radiated out around a small one-story cabin and they walked towards it. Clint kept his distance and observed.

The men slowed as they approached the cabin and then stopped completely. The door opened and Clint's eyes narrowed at the uniformed man who stood in the doorframe.

HYDRA.

It wasn't the full guard uniform that he had seen in his brief personal experiences with agents or in the surveillance pictures in the overly large file. But it was unmistakably them.

Both men nodded and then split off from the cabin. Clint's brow furrowed in confusion when the agent closed the door and remained inside. He focused on the two men and watched them move around the area carefully.

Their movements were careful and precise and it occurred to him after several moments that they were beginning a sweep of the grounds, much as he had done with his own house.

If they were worried about enemy surveillance that meant there was something in that cabin worth guarding.

Which meant he had to get closer.

Two options were available. One: sneak around the closer guard to get a view through a window as to what was inside. Two: kill everyone and stroll in through the front door.

He was more inclined to the second one but he knew it was more than vital to not draw attention to himself.

Killing people tended to attract a crowd for some reason.

He watched both men for several more minutes as they put more distance between each other and the house and identified his best opportunity.

Both men were good at their jobs and they complemented each other well. One had his eyes narrowed, scanning the area carefully and relying mostly on his sight. The other had his head cocked slightly to the left, subconsciously moving his dominant ear into a stronger position as he listened for any movement.

But Clint was a master at moving silently. The ground was perfect for muffling any noise he did make as he made his way carefully around the base of the tree he had been crouching behind.

First step was to get behind Mr. Eyes. The man would trust that the area he already cleared would remain secure and most likely wouldn't look back. Clint would have to move slowly and time it perfectly to ensure that nothing gave him away.

The smallest movement in the man's peripheral vision could compromise his location.

He could spot a good vantage point ahead and made his way there, more distance being created between him and the men as they moved in opposite directions.

Clint finally got to his location and set up carefully to remain out of sight. He wasn't too close to the house but the window gave him a good view.

One man was inside, facing a whole bunch of screens. Clint's heart skipped a beat at the thought that they had the woods monitored but then he realized that the displays were keyed up to other locations.

Each one had men in the shot and he realized immediately that they were HYDRA guards. A sense of horror was slowly growing as he counted the number of screens and tried to identify locations that were the same.

_Fifteen_.

Fifteen different locations were being guarded. And he had no idea what they were.

A quick glance out to the other men saw them at the edge of his field of vision with no indication that they would turn back soon.

He had to get closer.

There was a blind spot between the window and the front door where he would be able to approach without being seen by the guard. It would have to do.

In a crouching run he made his way over to the cabin and pulled up just as he reached the corner of the house. Mentally cursing that he didn't have a bug on him, he moved forward to peek in the window. The man was still in his chair, looking over the screens intently.

Sweeping his eyes over the rest of the inside he noticed with a start that there was something else in the house. It looked like the hatch to a submarine but it stood in the center of the floor.

His best guess with the available information was that it was the entrance to some kind of underground room or tunnel.

Looking back at the monitors he tried to look for anything unique about the other locations but each had a frustratingly limited scope.

Another check over his shoulder saw the two agents approaching the cabin again. He cursed and moved to fully hide himself behind the cabin.

He was too far from any kind of cover to run to without being seen. Searching the ground he found a suitable rock and pulled out his bow. Fitting it against the string, he aimed for a tree to the left of Mr. Eyes and loosed the rock.

It struck with a thump and both men immediately turned toward the sound. Mr. Ears moved over towards the other agent and they moved in towards where the rock had landed.

As soon as their backs were turned he sprinted for the trees opposite them, back toward the way they had originally come from.

He checked behind him to make sure he was in the clear and then made his way back to the safe house. It wasn't far off after he got back to the path and he was more than a little unnerved at how close the house and agents were to his supposed sanctuary.

He'd been totally unaware of them for six full days.

The door clicked shut behind him and he collapsed bonelessly against it. His legs failed to support him and he slid down until he was on the floor and shaking.

Only six days and the stress and silence were getting to him.

He'd be ashamed if there was anyone around to care. Since it was just him, he allowed himself a couple of minutes before he forced himself up.

Coulson would radio in tomorrow and he needed to get some more scouting in before that. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on here.

* * *

This one was painful. Not much going on but it's important background stuff. Maybe...? I don't really blame you if you skip this. I keep getting distracted with later chapters. Things will happen soon!

As usual, thank you to everyone who read, subscribed and reviewed. Individual thank you's to my anonymous reviewers and to Strawberrywaltz for helping me out with ideas for later on and just being awesome!

Always,

Sinkme


	6. Chapter 6

_Only five days and the stress and silence were getting to him._

_He'd be ashamed if there was anyone around to care. Since it was just him, he allowed himself a couple of minutes before he forced himself up._

_Coulson would radio in tomorrow and he needed to get some more scouting in before that. He needed to figure out what the hell was going on here. _

* * *

He awoke early the next morning and set out back toward the house he'd been led to yesterday. Coulson would call around noon and he needed to be back by then.

Clint followed the path closely, looking for other signs of off-road traffic that could hint at another hidden location.

Finding none, he turned back and slowly made his way toward the house and the vantage point he had utilized yesterday.

He needed more information and watching the guard might give some insight.

It was a slow five hours as he watched over the man but it was helpful. It was clear that the house was used as some kind of central monitoring system. Two men- different pairs every time- came to check at three-hour intervals and do their sweep of the area. He regretted leaving his spot but he needed to be in a secure location for when Coulson called.

They had agreed on a time on each seventh day for Coulson to make contact. Apparently there was a radio station nearby that broadcasted an afternoon series that would be useful in hiding the comm. signal. For security there wouldn't be more time allowed for anything more than the most vital information to be reported, but it was a little safer to have the signal masked.

He had a little bit of time so he put some effort into lunch instead of relying on one of the pre-cooked meals.

When Coulson called at noon on the dot he already had his comm. device in his ear and in stasis mode.

He clicked the call on, "Agent Barton reporting. Code: seven-alpha-five-six-three-tango."

"Confirmed. What have you discovered so far, Clint?"

"I have verified HYDRA's presence in the area. There is a small house that serves as some kind of surveillance center located approximately four miles from my location."

"Have you been compromised?"

"Negative. I was able to approach and make visual confirmation of at least fifteen other locations that are being monitored from within the house but I have not been able to locate any of them as of yet."

"You're saying that there are sixteen HYDRA stations in the area that you know of?" Coulson voice managed to be both incredulous and mad; it made for an interesting tone.

"Affirmative."

Coulson was silent on the other end but Clint had more than enough patience.

His voice was strained when spoke again, "Good work so far, agent. Continue the mission as planned."

"Understood, Bar-"

"Clint?" Coulson sounded like he was physically hurting.

"I'm here Phil."

"Be careful."

"I'll do my best. Barton out."

He pulled the device out of his ear and shut it off. Clint took a deep, calming breath.

Knowing that Coulson was worried had both warmed and scared him. Being scared was nothing new so he focused on the warmth.

It was time to go back out and scout some more.

He headed off back toward the house. He hadn't had time earlier to move out from the house so he took advantage of his slightly higher ground.

The terrain was mostly uniform from what he could see but patches of open areas cropped up in the distance and he could start to discern a pattern.

He closed his eyes, trying to visualize the map as Coulson had shown it to him, focusing on the area immediately surrounding his safe house.

_Shit, three houses within five miles._

That sucked.

He opened his eyes and noticed something else. Something bigger.

Curious he headed over towards it. The cleared area wasn't as low on the mountain as the surveillance center was so he headed back up until he was about even and then trekked over.

He was doubly careful, knowing that there were more houses out there that he had yet to uncover. It took him over half an hour but he finally saw the clearing up ahead.

Slowing down even more he looked around for a good place to set up. A tree would be preferable. These ones were fairly easy to climb so he made his way up the top of a sturdy tree on the edge of the clearing and made himself comfortable.

A litany of curses ran silently through his head as he looked into the clearing.

It was a huge fucking compound.

Fortified, solid, protected fucking stronghold.

They'd obviously been there for quite some time. The outer walls were strong and heavily defended.

The guards were alert and armed to the teeth, and he assumed they had sensors and cameras in the very few blind spots that he could see.

And he would have to get ears inside the building if he intended to learn anything. So how the fuck was that going to happen?

From what he could see by the entrance, everything entering the facility was expertly checked before being admitted.

His only saving grace was that for some inexplicit reason, HYDRA guards and agents still wore uniforms that included a partial facemask. Clint had no idea why they continued to do so, but it might be possible for him to find a uniform and get through the building fairly undetected.

He grimaced at the thought of pulling one of the oldest and most clichéd infiltration schemes in the book, but if that was the only opportunity then he'd roll with it.

With the knowledge that he would have to somehow infiltrate the building slowly becoming an inescapable thought, he resigned himself to spending the rest of the day in his spot.

The guards checked in at random intervals and were switched frequently to avoid boredom setting in. And it would be hard for him to take out a guard and take his uniform without anyone noticing.

He really fucking hated the Council.

From his perch he considered his options. It was possible to sneak in. There was a small chance of success in planting even one bug, let alone the half a dozen he had, before he was captured and either killed on the spot or interrogated and then killed.

He could use some kind of distraction to give him a higher chance of success. The larger the distraction, the better his chances, but it also increased the likelihood of them suspecting something and upping their security later.

Clint paused in his thinking as he observed a truck approaching the gate. Guards surrounded the vehicle. One kept eyes on the driver at all times. Three others completed visual and physical sweeps of the outer parts of the vehicle. Then they moved to evaluate the contents of the truck. Finally, a fifth guard stepped up with what Clint had to assume was some kind of heat vision monitor to ensure no one was on board who shouldn't be.

That might be his way in. He knew better than most that people relied too much on technology and it was possible to hide oneself from a heat sensor. It still left him facing pretty bad odds once he was inside.

Looking back at the truck he was struck by another idea.

There were certain to be a fair amount of people in the building. Which meant that there had to be transportation to get everyone- or more importantly, _everything- _out in the event that an evacuation was required.

He didn't see any kind of vehicles or room to keep that many trucks anywhere above ground.

Which meant that the building extended further below ground. Potentially creating more access points across the border to minimize the number of agents who were seen coming and going throughout the nearby towns.

If it was as big as he suspected, there had to be several of those access points scattered throughout the mountain. So all Clint had to do was find where one was located above ground and sneak in through that point.

There were sure to be sentinels guarding the location, but they wouldn't be as vigilant as the guards he was looking at now. He'd have a better chance of sneaking up and taking them out in order to borrow a uniform and get in.

Inspiration struck as he realized that the surveillance center could be protecting one of those points as well as monitoring other locations for security.

The sun was setting as he made his way back to the safe house. He quickly threw together all the equipment he might need into his shoulder bag and headed to bed. Clint decided on an attempt at dawn before he lost his nerve.

His watch beeped and he wanted to groan. It was half past two. Time to go to work.

His gear was all black and he moved down the mountain silently, using the sparse lighting from the moon to light his way. Nothing moved and there were no other sounds save the crunch under his boots and his own breath.

He had to get into position before the men checked in at three for their route. The guard had to acknowledge them before they began but after that he'd have a three-hour window to accomplish his goal.

From his crouched position in their blind spot he watched as the two men greeted the guard and then began their sweep.

As soon as they were a safe distance away he made his move.

He pulled out the canister he'd removed from one of his arrows earlier and poked a hole in the side with his knife. The gas usually knocked out a grown man for anywhere from four to five hours. Opening the door slightly he rolled it in so as not to raise an alarm.

The only noise that came out was the thump of a body as it slid to the floor.

Pushing through the door he made sure to close it firmly and open the back window to let the remaining gas escape. In the mean time, he needed to borrow the guard's uniform.

He pulled on the man's gear with a frown of distaste and looked over the monitors to ensure that nothing was amiss. There was nothing inside the room that hinted at a camera so he was in the clear for the moment.

Fully prepped he twisted opened the hatch in the center of the room and looked down at the ladder and the dark tunnel. His own jacket was placed over the top to hide the light and make it look as though the cover was still on.

This particular location was meant to be an entrance only apparently.

He dropped down the last couple of feet and looked around. Tunnels stretched out in front of him and a cold pit of dread formed in his stomach. His watch was already counting down his time and he quickly pulled out his knife to make a nick on the ladder.

There were more lights down the tunnel on his right so he moved carefully in that direction. It was hard to force himself to walk calmly, and especially hard to keep his body from tensing when HYDRA agents walked by him.

At least he wasn't conspicuous. No one had stopped him or questioned him yet.

He had two bugs planted already; one in a high-traffic tunnel and one in what looked like the infirmary.

He'd also set a small explosive close to several oxygen tanks that he'd found in the storage space in the back of the infirmary.

You never knew when you might need to blow something up.

He was down to his last hour and he still had four bugs left. There was no shortage of places to hide explosives so he only had two of those left. He needed to remember to assemble the detonator later and match it to the frequency he'd programmed into the charges.

Turning a corner he froze. _Shit_.

Dozens of agents were in the room in front of him. Maps and diagrams were strewn across several tables and there was a constant flurry of motion as men moved around.

He could see insignias on the uniforms of several agents marking them as officers and he would have cheered if he hadn't been so completely tense. He'd finally found the command center.

Someone was sure to notice that he was out of place so he moved around quickly, glancing at every scrap of paper that he could and trying to work out anything he could.

He'd stuck three bugs around the room when a yelled command went up and the room went utterly still.

Agents moved into position and threw an arm up in salute and Clint scrambled to fall in behind several men and copy their movements.

A door in the corner of the room had opened and three men walked out. None of them bothered to glance at any of the other men as they stalked out of the room. Clint got a good look at one of their uniforms and realized they were high command.

And the door they'd just come out of most likely led to a private room. A quick glance at the bottom of the door showed darkness and he'd have to rely on that as assurance that the room was empty.

He made his way over carefully, trying not to draw attention to himself; he kept the door at his back and felt for the knob with one hand. There was no way he'd be able to enter the room to position the bug in an optimal location. Scanning the room in front of him he took a breath and opened the door a crack. The bug he kept in his hands behind his back and a quick glance over his shoulder showed some kind of table by the door.

His hand shot out with the bug and maneuvered it underneath the top and hopefully out of sight.

After a second's pause when nobody started yelling, he pulled out another explosive and placed it by the bug. He eased the door shut and moved out of the way.

Not willing to press his luck but wanting to learn as much as possible, Clint walked along the edge of the room until he was close to the door again.

He had roughly forty minutes to get back to the unconscious guard he'd left behind. Men were talking quietly and he had to use all of his concentration to focus enough to understand their mutterings through their masks. He wished his German was better.

His last explosive was placed in the corner of the room and then he exited and headed back towards the ladder as quickly as he could.

If anyone asked he'd never admit it, but he ended up getting lost in the tunnels for a good thirty minutes. His anxiety was feeding his minor panic and he almost missed the ladder when he came to it until he noticed the cut in the metal as he walked by.

Sighing in relief, he turned to glance down each tunnel before he quickly climbed up and pushed his jacket out of the way, shutting the hatch firmly behind him.

Clint checked on the guard; he was still out cold on the floor. He made sure the man was out of sight of any of the windows or door and waited for the two agents to approach the house.

One last thing and then he could collapse back in the safe house and do something about all the adrenaline and nervous energy that was pumping through his system. Usually he shot something with his bow but he'd probably have to settle for the punching bag that was conveniently set up in the basement.

He'd thank Coulson for that later.

The agents were approaching so he pulled open the door and walked two steps out as he'd seen the guard do before.

Raising his right hand in recognition, he waited for both men to turn away and begin their routes before he walked back inside and shut the door.

They expected to see him watching the screens if they happened to look back so he had to sit and watch and wait as they did their sweep.

Meanwhile the guard was beginning to stir.

His hand shot out to apply gentle pressure against the man's carotid artery; just enough to coax his weakened body back into unconsciousness. He would have just knocked him out but in order for him to leave no trace behind the guard couldn't have a mark on him.

Human nature and self-preservation would win out in the end. The man would convince himself he'd fallen asleep and would never tell anyone. One mistake was all it took to be relieved of one's life in HYDRA.

The two agents were out of sight so Clint stripped out of the HYDRA gear and dressed the guard again, taking care to leave everything exactly how he'd found it. Placing the guard in the chair was a pain; it was worse because the man kept lilting to one side once he was in the chair.

He grabbed the gas canister on his way out and did a final check of the room before he left and sprinted back towards his safe house and the cover of trees.

* * *

Things are finally moving! There will probably be two or three more chapters from Clint's pov before I switch to Natasha and go back to the beginning. And then I'll go back to Clint to pick up where I left off.

Huge thank you to those readers who have reviewed multiple times- I love hearing from you and it means so much that you continue to review! And thanks to everyone else who reviewed, subscribed, or read- glad you're liking it! I've been exhausted with my first week of work and am therefore behind on my messages and replies so look for those this weekend!

Always

Sinkme


	7. Chapter 7

_The two agents were out of sight so Clint stripped out of the HYDRA gear and dressed the guard again, taking care to leave everything exactly how he'd found it. Placing the guard in the chair was a pain; it was worse because the man kept lilting to one side once he was in the chair._

_He grabbed the gas canister on his way out and did a final check of the room before he left and sprinted back towards his safe house and the cover of trees._

* * *

He crashed when he got back to the safe house. He could feel the adrenaline bleeding out of his system as he trekked back up the mountain. He came down hard the moment the door shut behind him but he dragged himself over to the computer.

Clint absolutely had to get the bugs live and start the program to record every word they picked up.

The program was already loaded onto the computer, for which he was extremely grateful, but he had to manually add each bug's identification code and get each one up and running. While it located each device he set up a different program to scan the recordings for a series of key words and phrases and flag them; with that many bugs he'd never be able to listen to everything.

He'd focus on the bugs he had in the planning rooms but it wasn't like he could sit in the house all day for the next couple of weeks and listen to them all. Plus, with everything recorded it would be possible to go back and have the techs analyze everything down to the last syllable once it got back to SHIELD.

At least he'd have something to listen to in the silence of the house. The program would scan through every word once it was recorded and highlight sections when a trigger word was identified. He could go through those parts at a later time. It was a little trickier since it would all be in German, but Clint would manage.

The signal that the program picked up from the bugs was small enough that he didn't worry about it being traced. There were enough wireless waves coming from those rooms and the rest of the building that the small ones from the bugs would most likely go unnoticed.

Satisfied that it was working, he left the computer and barely made it to his bed before he passed out; the stress of the day had been murder on his nerves.

When he woke up it was late in the afternoon and the program had been running smoothly the whole time.

His hands were still shaking slightly; a result of the sudden high and then crash that he'd gotten from his lack of sleep over the week and from sneaking around the base. He knew he'd need to work it off before he did anything else.

The punching bag was set up in the basement with a training mat and a few weights. He would have liked to go for a run or climb something but as that was impossible in his current situation, he settled for taking it out on the bag.

He wrapped up his hands with tape and went at it.

The motions became smoother as his body warmed up and he let his mind go blank. Long hours of practice and experience meant that he didn't need to focus completely on the movements he was making to know that he was executing them perfectly.

Jab. Jab. Hook. Jab. Jab. Cross. Grab. Knee. Jab. Front kick. Jab. Jab. Roundhouse. Uppercut.

He picked the tempo up, moving around the punching bag as he attacked it, trying to simulate a real fight.

He switched to free-weights after a while, settling into a routine again and still wishing he could shoot something.

When it got dark he went back out to scout around, focusing on finding some of the other smaller houses that HYDRA was using.

Although he hadn't found anything by the time he came back in the morning he felt better just having been outside.

He keyed up the bug from the private room he'd managed to get in under the table and listened to the voices speak as he moved around the safe house completing his daily routine and preparing the detonators to the explosives he'd planted.

A loud slamming noise had him pulling his gun and tensing in a heartbeat before he realized that there was no one else in the house with him.

Confused, he listened for any kind of noise and realized that there weren't any voices coming from the bugged room anymore. There was only silence.

_They slammed the door shut behind them when they left. Fuck. _

With the bug so close to the door it would pick up the sound every time the door opened and shut.

Willing his heart to slow he went over to the computer and switched to another device to listen to.

Clint spent the next four and a half weeks doing the same thing.

At least once a day he left the house to make sure his perimeter was secure and search for other HYDRA locations. So far he'd managed to find nine others. The last six had to be on the other side of the border. He'd check in with Coulson when his handler called and updated him on anything he'd learned.

The bugs continued to hear everything going on in the area and he reviewed any flagged sections daily, making a mental note of anything that seemed important to report on later.

As far as he could tell the base was more of a research and development location than anything. There was a lot of discussion about projects and weapons. He'd talked to Coulson at the last check-in three days ago when they mentioned harnessing some energy for weapons.

Phil indicated that they might have been able to find a way to replicate the weapons that they'd been using during World War II on a smaller scale.

They utilized some kind of secret energy source that no one at the time had been able to copy. If they had kept any weapons from the war, Coulson agreed it was possible that they were using modified versions to run on less energy or a different source of power.

Apparently the weapons were extremely powerful and volatile and Coulson told him to steer clear of any kind of weapon that gave off blue light.

Awesome.

It was just after three in the morning and he was reviewing a flagged section that had been picked up from the private room. He pulled the sound clip open and listened carefully from his bed.

"_It's definite. He has the information we need and he's prepared to come in. He'll be here tomorrow."_

"_Is it too soon? If we pull him out too early we could lose everything. We can't afford to alert the Americans before we're ready."_

_"No, this is the perfect opportunity. No one will suspect him until it's too late. By that time his cover will be irrelevant because we'll have everything we need to take them down."_

"_And the Secretary doesn't suspect anything about his trip here?"_

"_No, he's too worried about the peace talks to care where his Deputy goes at the moment. He told him he's taking a little bit of personal time to visit some extended family around here. He's already on his way."_

"_And his information is good?"_

_"It's more than good. He got it straight from the Secretary's office; his access is almost unrestricted. There's no way they'll discover the missing information until after the bomb has hit. Even then it'll take some time and they'll be scrambling to recover and find a leader since the explosion will take out the President and his top cabinet members."_

"_Fine. We'll prepare for his arrival tomorrow afternoon. I'll make sure security is tight."_

Clint couldn't breathe.

He frantically replayed the segment and listened again. He yelled in anger when he heard the same thing.

_Shit. This is really fucking bad_.

He wouldn't be contacted for an update for four days and he didn't need an emergency evacuation, which was the only other way he could communicate with Coulson and SHIELD. Unless Coulson called him, his only line of communication was to open his comm. and give the evacuation code. It would automatically trigger a response team to come to his location.

If he called for the evac and they came in now HYDRA would be alerted to their movement and they'd never get another shot at the mole or the intel they were discussing.

He was on his own.

He scrambled to assemble all of his weapons while his mind raced. How the fuck had they managed to get someone so high up in the first place?

Intelligence leaks were an unfortunate but true part of the business. But having an actual mole, not someone who turned traitor and sold information, but someone whose sole purpose was to climb the ranks, get information, give misinformation, and cause a fuck-ton of problems was a whole different animal. Having someone as high as they did was almost impossible to achieve.

He knew it wasn't a traitor because they mentioned a cover. That implied that they had planted someone there with specific training. It would have taken years to achieve the title of Deputy; they must have been planning this for decades. He assumed they were discussing the Secretary of State and his Deputy because they mentioned peace talks distracting the Secretary.

The current Secretary had made those peace talks the cornerstone of his term. And as Secretary of State he certainly had access to information that HYDRA could use. There was no telling what the mole had done as far as sabotage. Any amount of information could have been somehow copied for HYDRA or altered to screw the government over later.

And of course, he had access to information on the United State's military personnel and weapons, specifically nuclear weapons. There was no way he'd be able to get codes for those but there was sure to be an abundance of information on weapons programs from countries who were easier to steal from or bargain with.

All it took was one missile and the United States could be crippled. That many top leaders taken out in one blow could only mean panic; even without factoring in the countless other deaths from the blast and then the nuclear fallout. It'd be a nightmare.

If he hadn't heard it firsthand he definitely wouldn't believe it.

Obviously HYDRA command was keeping this close to their chests since they were meeting with the guy tomorrow and he'd only just heard about it today after having the bugs in place for over a month.

He had to stop this guy and get the information back. There was no question in his mind that his orders had gone out the window the second he'd heard that conversation.

Clint had little time to prepare and he had to go with the first wild plan he thought up.

The mole would give up the information once he was inside the base and secure. He didn't know if the information was in the man's head or in some kind of drive he'd be carrying, but regardless, he had to be able to physically check over the man to ensure that nothing was being left behind.

Which meant getting close enough to check the body after he took him out.

His best option for getting out of this alive was to stop the mole before he entered the compound. Most likely he would arrive by some kind of vehicle because an aircraft going right to the base would be too noticeable.

But there were at least a dozen potential access points to the compound from the ground that Clint knew of and more that he didn't know about or have access to. He'd never be able to narrow down which entrances were more likely to be utilized or do anything to force the mole into a specific entrance.

In addition, the man could be in any kind of vehicle. He might have one guard in the car with him or he might have an envoy of trucks to guide him. Clint didn't have that information.

So he'd have to go back into the compound and take the mole out from inside HYDRA's strongest controlled location in the region.

Grabbing the rest of his supplies he darted out into the night, mind still churning with ideas and concerns.

He'd only been inside the base once before so he'd have to use the same access point as before. He had a working layout of the compound but it was built around that specific spot as the entrance and exit. Using another entrance would throw that off even if it might be a little safer.

Clint knew he would have to be in the compound for a while- as a time frame 'afternoon' was horrendously inexact, although he definitely preferred it to not knowing anything.

He'd have to take out the guard and agents before he went down and pray that no one noticed it in time. It was a fool's hope; with the mole coming they'd be doubly tight on security, but with no backup or support to leave behind and keep up the ruse for the agents, he'd have to take his chances.

He ran down the mountain a little and carefully looked over the route he'd take on his way there and back. He focused specifically on anything that he could move- roots or large rocks- without anyone noticing the changes.

Anything he could do to make sure that he could run back up the path later and not trip over anything would help if he were under fire or being chased.

He set up a few more small charges that could be detonated remotely and one that he buried in the ground. Finally, he pulled out a trip wire that he tied off between two trees.

Feeling a little better he ran back up the short distance to the safe house and prepared. He threw everything he might need into his shoulder bag and then got the rest of the house ready for his return.

It was more than likely that he'd be returning in a hurry so he pulled together everything he wasn't bringing but would need later and made sure nothing was left out.

He kept the bugs running but moved all of the files he'd recorded during the month onto the external hard drive and set the rest of the files to record directly onto it as well so he could secure all the information in one spot and grab it quickly if necessary.

The bag with the rest of his gear was placed next to the computer. Everything else was put in the burn bin and sealed for disposal.

The sun was close to rising as he made his way outside again. He'd decided that if he had to take out the guard and agents at the house and create a security concern he might as well make it a bigger problem and kill the guards at the other locations he knew about.

He wanted to be inside the compound by noon to give himself enough time to find out when the mole was arriving and set up a location to take him out.

There were roughly six hours until that time and he had nine houses to get to all over the mountain. The first step was to take out the guard in the central house; the other locations were monitored from there and if he moved on any of the other houses first he'd be spotted.

He cursed when he realized he'd screwed up the timing. It was close to five and there would be agents coming to check-in at six. It was too early to kill them so he'd have to come back to wave them off.

He could get to the three houses close to his safe house and make it back within the hour. Clint ran down the rest of the way to the house and eased the door open gently. There couldn't be any signs of a struggle and a broken door or blood spatter on the windows was a dead giveaway.

The guard didn't turn as he stepped through the door and he closed the distance between them in two steps. He had the man's head and neck in his hands and twisted sharply to break his neck.

One down.

He left the guard in his seat and closed the door as he ran to the next location.

Each of the satellite locations had only one guard; since they were monitored by the main house there weren't any agents nearby to check the area. He still couldn't simply shoot them through a window though, since he didn't want there to be obvious signs of a problem visible too soon.

So he quickly stalked into each location and killed the guard. He took a radio from the first one and kept it with him.

It was a quarter to six when he made it back to the main house and grabbed the man's gear. It would be a pain to take it off again only to put it back on, but he moved better in his own uniform and he had to keep the guard in the chair when he left.

The agents came right at six and Clint waved them off. He twitched nervously while they moved slowly away from the house and he quickly shucked the extra clothes off. From what he'd observed, the agents went back down to the town after they did their sweep of the area.

Two new agents would replace them in three hours and none of them made contact with each other but he couldn't afford kill these two this early.

Plus, he'd have to stash all the bodies somewhere and it was a small house. Better not push his luck.

When it was clear he headed down the mountain to the next location so he could make his way back up to the house later. He'd have to be there for the nine o'clock check-in as well and he needed to get at least four of the houses done since there were two that were a little ways off and he would need more time to get to them.

He was getting tired and forced himself to eat one of the energy bars that SHIELD provided and drink some water despite the nausea and nerves that were upsetting his stomach.

The four other guards were down and he set himself up behind a tree to the side of the house and waited for the two agents.

It would have been easier to shoot them and pull their bodies into the house but then there would be blood everywhere and he didn't feel like dealing with that.

Instead he prepared an arrow with knock-out gas and waited until they stood together in front of the house, obviously waiting for the guard, before he fired.

The canister opened on impact and they both inhaled several lungfuls worth of gas before they realized what was going on. Clint raced across the space between them to silence them for good before they tried to yell out.

A vicious punch to one man's head had him slumping to the ground but the other man took the opportunity to deliver a hard kick that clipped his shoulder as Clint ducked under it.

While the agent was off balance from the kick he lunged in and tackled the man to the ground. The man got in a body shot to Clint's stomach but he managed to get underneath him and lock his left arm around the agent's neck.

He wrapped his legs around the man's thighs to reduce the range of motion he'd have while his right hand gripped his left wrist to keep the maximum amount of pressure on the man's throat.

The agent's arms flapped wildly, clawing at Clint's hands and gouging deep scratches down his arms in an attempt to force Clint to release him.

He ignored the pain and arched his back, stretching his legs out to give him more space as he twisted and felt the man finally go limp.

Taking deep breaths, he quickly dragged both bodies into the house and checked over the ground for anything that might hint at the fight. The arrow was still good so he tossed the empty canister into the house and stashed the bolt back in his quiver.

There were two more houses to go and he had to be back by twelve. It took him the better part of an hour to get over to the first house and he wasted no time in killing the guard. The second house wasn't far off but it was a pain to get to and he'd have to be careful to be unseen.

He stalked up quietly but found the last guard oblivious to his presence so he took him out quickly.

He had half an hour to rest by the time he made it back to the house so he laid on the floor and tried to recover from his morning. His body was humming with energy but he could feel the beginning of exhaustion creeping in after the extended run he'd just completed.

He drank more water and ate another energy bar, trying to even out his breathing and go through some light stretches to ensure he stayed warm and prepared.

Clint pulled the guard's HYDRA uniform back on and sat patiently while waiting for the noon guards to arrive.

He saw them coming and let them get to the usual spot without greeting them. He could see the confusion in their faces when no one opened the door and they walked closer.

They didn't have any radios or devices on them to alert anyone so he let them get all the way to the door without worrying about an alarm being raised.

One pushed the door open and he received an open-handed chop to the throat to silence him. He leapt at the other guard and pulled the man's head down at the neck to meet his knee in a swift motion. He could feel the man's nose shatter and he finished him off before tossing his body by the others.

The other agent was still down and Clint reached down to grab him in a chokehold. The man asphyxiated quickly with the previous damage to his windpipe and he dropped him where he fell on the floor.

Making sure the bodies were away from the direct line of sight from the windows, he shut the door and rigged it with his last explosive and trip wire in a fashion similar to what Natasha had used at her safe house in Warsaw; anyone who opened the door would set off the charge.

Clint quickly opened the hatch and draped his jacket over it again to keep the light from alerting anyone that it was open and descended down the ladder.

He couldn't hear anything as he made his way down and the halls were empty as he stepped down.

He was in.

* * *

So yeah, things are happening now. Wasn't all the build up worth it?

A lot of people didn't want me to switch between Clint and Natasha in a couple of chapters (which was the original plan) so I will work on finishing the rest of the storyline from Clint's pov. I think I will end up posting Natasha's pov as a separate story because I might need more time to work on that now that I have to get moving on more of Clint's chapters and put her on the back burner, so to speak. We'll see.

Huge thank you to my reviewers and subscribers both old and new although I really appreciate everyone who has reviewed for several chapters- it's fun to hear from you!

Always

Sinkme


	8. Chapter 8

_Clint quickly opened the hatch and draped his jacket over it again to keep the light from alerting anyone that it was open and descended down the ladder._

_He couldn't hear anything as he made his way down and the halls were empty as he stepped down. _

_He was in._

* * *

He figured he had a little bit of time so he moved down the hallway in front of him, trying to get a better grasp of the tunnels to refresh his memory. After all, he had gotten lost last time and he couldn't afford to let that happen again.

The radio he'd stolen earlier was on his hip but the volume was low to avoid drawing any additional suspicion.

With every corner he turned he left some kind of mark behind to indicate which direction he should go if he came back that way. Everything depended on him getting back to that specific ladder.

As he moved he kept a careful eye and ear out for anything that might hint as to when or where the mole would appear. Footsteps were closing in and he turned to see several men running towards him.

He waited, unwilling to attack first in case they weren't coming for him, and he sighed in relief when they ran right by him.

Curious now as to where they were going he followed them down several tunnels and found some fifteen HYDA agents standing in line at attention.

The other agents joined the line and Clint snuck up to the back as well, straining his ears to hear what the commander in front was saying.

From the couple of words he caught he realized that this group would be escorting the mole to the command center. He said a silent thank you to whatever or whoever had led him right to where he needed to be and moved out with the other men when they were dismissed.

The group was silent as they jogged down the tunnels in line and Clint tried his best to keep marking up corners. They were going much deeper into the compound than he had explored and he tried not to think about how many agents were going to be between him and his exit.

They finally slowed and he saw a light up ahead. The line moved up and broke off into two groups. There was a truck idling and when it opened the lines stopped in their tracks.

A man stepped out and another agent directed him to the open lane between the two lines of agents. They would take him directly to command center where he could deliver the intel in person.

A plan was rapidly forming in his mind as they walked back through the tunnels. He was still at the very back of the lines and had a perfect view of the mole and the agents in front of him.

He'd have to do it now though, before they moved closer to the more populated tunnels.

Pulling the detonator from his jacket, he quickly set it to the explosive he thought was closest.

His thumb pressed the button and he smiled when he felt the walls shake. Phase one done.

"Quick! This way!" Clint yelled as he ran up and grabbed the mole by the shoulders in the confusion. He directed the man down another hallway, not really caring if the other agents followed.

It was five more hallways until he got close to another explosive and he pulled the mole along with him as he navigated through.

He heard yelling behind him but didn't turn to look. One more hallway.

The mole ran along, clearly confused but willing to trust him. They passed the explosive and he waited until they were around the corner to subtly detonate it. Anyone who had been pursuing them was caught in the blast and Clint kept pulling the man along as they ran.

"What's going on?" the mole yelled in English. Clint turned to him, his voice even and calm, "Someone's trying to get to you. Do you have the information? It's crucial that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands."

The man nodded, "Yeah, I have it right here." He pulled out a hard drive from his jacket and Clint looked back at him as they kept moving through the tunnels.

"That's everything, right?" Clint asked. "You haven't dropped anything on the way?"

The man nodded, "It's all here."

"Great. Keep it safe," Clint peered around the corners and saw they were alone. He stopped and turned to face the mole and gave him a wide smile.

The man barely had a moment to realize something was wrong before Clint had his arms around the man's neck.

With a twist the man fell dead. Clint pulled the hard drive out and secured it in his bag. A shout from down the hall revealed that two agents had snuck up and seen the whole thing.

Cursing, Clint pulled his gun out. His quiver and bow were back in the surveillance house because they would have been too noticeable.

One of the men fell to his bullet but the other took cover and Clint cursed again and started running.

He had the intel and the mole was dead. Time to get the fuck out of there. He grabbed the radio and turned the volume up, trying to hear whether or not they were aware of his position.

He ran through the tunnels looking at each corner for the marks he left behind and following the directions. Commands were being shouted over the radio and he knew that they were on to him.

A gunshot echoed through the tunnel and he crouched down while he ran. He was close to the ladder but he could hear more yells and gunshots following him.

Clint kept running, occasionally using a corner as cover to pick off a couple of pursuing agents. They were slowly closing in on him and he bolted for the ladder, taking the rungs two at a time and trying to get high enough so that the hanging tunnel over the ladder would provide him with some cover.

He wasn't being quiet but speed was more important at the moment and he hauled ass up that ladder. Clint threw his jacket away and closed the hatch as quickly as he could.

He checked the windows to ensure the area was clear as he pulled his bow and quiver out as well as his earpiece. He quickly disarmed the wire at the door and then ran out of the house. He tossed off the extra HYDRA gear as he went.

Clint clicked the earpiece on and waited until he heard the beep before yelling out, "Agent Barton. Emergency evacuation code: nine-foxtrot-three-four-echo."

A tinny voice said, "Confirmed Agent Barton."

"Fantastic," he rolled his eyes and kept running. He heard a car revving from further down the mountain and abruptly made for a different part of the mountain.

"Clint!" another voice was in his ear.

His hand went to his earpiece, confusion coloring his voice. "Coulson?"

There was a high vantage point cropping out of the side of the valley that he headed for. He needed to take out the car and some of his pursuers or he'd never make it.

"Barton, what's your status?" Coulson didn't waste any time.

"In deep shit. Where's my evac?" He knew he was breathing hard; the stress of the situation and the speed at which he was running ensured that Coulson was getting a better picture of his condition than just his words gave away.

"En route. ETA fifteen minutes."

"Fuck" he snarled, jumping over a couple of rocks to climb up the ledge.

He scanned the area below, looking for targets as he got his bow ready. Agents were already coming through the trees and the car was getting closer.

One shot, an enemy down.

"They're crawling all over me, Coulson." More were coming and he kept firing, aiming for exposed throats to kill or the weak points in their body suits to wound and slow them down. An exploding arrow was sent through the truck's windshield and the car stopped moving in a ball of fire.

The first agents up the mountain were the faster ones; the agents coming behind them had weapons with them. Glowing blue weapons. _Fuckfuckfuck._

Quickly changing targets, he aimed for those with the big guns but it was hardly making a dent in their numbers.

When one fell, another picked up the weapon and kept coming. "Shit!"

"Barton!"

"Little busy!" They were getting closer. He paused to select another explosive arrow from his quiver and shot it at a group that was closer to him. They'd snuck up when he'd focused on the heavily armed agents.

As soon as he released the arrow he pulled the string away from the bow and threaded it over his shoulder and neck and turned to run.

He heard the explosion in the distance and kept running. He had a good lead on them and the safe house was less than half a mile away.

"Agent Barton do you copy?" Coulson's voice was loud in his ear.

"What?" he yelled.

"Get to the safe house if you're able. A team will meet you there and assist in evac."

"That was the plan Coulson."

He kept running and chanced a glance over his shoulder. They were closing in but he had time.

"They'll be coming in hot, Coulson. I have enemy agents in-"

A tree exploded to his right, throwing him to the ground and peppering him with bits of wood. There was a ringing in his ears and he could feel dozens of scratches from the wood projectiles. Blood was running down the side of his face. He shook his head to clear out the daze and regretted the movement almost immediately. Regardless, he knew he had to keep moving.

Scrambling to get his feet under him he looked back and saw that four agents were almost on top of him. He thought he heard someone calling his name but he couldn't make it out.

More were behind them, setting up to send another explosion his way.

With no other choice he engaged the agents.

A solid front kick caught one man in the chest and he quickly ducked under another's wild punch. The three formed up and the fourth was slowly getting back to his feet.

Clint pulled his bow free from his back and used it to deliver harder blows and keep them a little further back.

They certainly weren't pushovers, but Clint was better. He got a solid punch to one man's temple and followed up with his bow, swinging at the same spot he'd just hit. The agent dropped and didn't get up.

A smaller explosion made itself known and from the location Clint guessed that someone had stepped on the improvised landmine he'd place there earlier.

He ducked under a high kick but a second agent caught him in the gut with an uppercut. Angry, he got his legs under him and caught the man with an uppercut of his own to the agent's jaw.

His hand went up to his vest and came away with his knife, carefully opening the man's throat before turning to the other two agents. They were both watching him, trying to delay him rather than attack.

He had some space so he tucked his knife away and drew an arrow instead. Clint fired it into one man's throat before the other charged him. He crouched down and let the man flip over him using his own momentum.

With the agent on the ground Clint pulled another arrow free and stabbed the man in the throat with it, leaving it there and turning to run again.

His ears were still ringing and blood continued to run down his face. He chanced a look back over his shoulder and suddenly remembered the other explosives he'd set.

Groping for the other detonator, he finally found it and clicked the button. Clint smiled grimly as he saw clouds of dirt and shrapnel rise up from further down the mountain. The screams were beginning to work their way into his ears and another noise made him pause momentarily.

"Clint!" Coulson sounded desperate so he must have been yelling for quite some time.

"I copy, explosion took my hearing for a little."

"How close are you to the safe house?" Coulson's voice was tight and Clint could feel his body humming with tension in response.

"In sight. Where's the team?"

"Five minutes. Can you hold out?"

"Don't really have a choice, do I?"

He turned to do a final sweep behind him and pick off anyone who was too close before running to the safe house.

Three agents were in front of him and he quickly disabled them; two with arrows through their throats, one with a shot at the unprotected shoulder joint. The last one stayed down anyway.

No other movement caught his attention but a sudden burst of blue light in his peripheral vision had him throwing himself to the ground.

It connected hard with his right side, the energy licking away at his front and back from the way he had turned his body and he screamed in pain.

It was overwhelming; like being stabbed and burned all at once.

His hands automatically rose to the injured area and the skin felt raw and inflamed.

"Clint!"

He knew he had no time. One hand pushed his body up as he got his legs under him. They were too close for him to worry about stealth or evasion anymore.

"Godammit, Clint answer me!"

He sprinted straight for the door as quickly as he was able. He felt himself lilting as he ran and another beam of energy went screaming by him.

It hit just to the side of the door and the shockwave knocked him flat on his back.

The ringing in his ears was worse and his head throbbed. There was some pain in his back as well from where he landed on his shoulder bag and quiver. He coughed, pain erupting through his chest and fire igniting in his side.

Unintelligible sounds surrounded him and something solid connected with his injured side.

He yelled again but the pain was clearing out the fog. Someone was pulling him up with an arm around his neck. It was loose and misplaced so he hashed out as much of a plan as his addled brain could focus on.

Clint allowed himself to be hauled up, crouching over to draw his backup gun from his ankle holster. His right hand went to clutch at the arm that held him in the headlock and his left concealed the gun.

He tilted his head back to try and get more air through his constricted throat. His eyes were slowly focusing and he realized that he was partially surrounded by agents with more on the way.

Desperate, he threw his head back and felt it connect with the other man's nose. His left hand came up and he fired off four quick shots.

Without wasting another moment he forced his body to run towards what used to be the door to the safe house.

He climbed over the debris made when the wall exploded but something else was tugging at his mind. Something he had to do. Furious with his slow thoughts, he cast his eyes over the area until they lit on the computer.

He had to secure the external hard drive; it had everything he'd worked for on it. He had two bullets left and he put them both in the main hard drive after he disconnected the external drive. Another streak of energy shot through the hole in the wall and connected with the back of the house.

Clint groaned at the heat and pain as more chunks of debris connected with his battered body and he knew he wouldn't be able to make it much longer.

He dropped the gun and hugged the hard drive close to his chest as he made for the stairs. It was harder to navigate down the steps than he originally thought and he ended up leaning heavily on the banister as he went.

The noise from above grew louder and footsteps thundering over his head made him limp even faster to his destination. He heard screaming and yells but he couldn't think about what that meant.

Clint opened the latch for the scanner and threw his hand out, idly noticing that it was stained red with blood. With a beep of confirmation the door opened and he threw himself inside the panic room and slammed the button down to lock the door in place.

The adrenaline was still running high but the pain was there too and for several minutes Clint had to force himself to focus only on his breathing. _In. Hold. Out. Hold. In. Hold. Out. Hold. _

His breath hitched of its own volition, his body reminding him of the beatings it had taken as he came down from his high.

A sudden bout of dizziness forced his eyes shut and he finally heard someone calling his name.

"Agent Barton, report!"

"Barton, do you copy?"

"Clint!"

"I'm here," he rasped. He'd never been so glad to hear Coulson's voice.

Phil was silent on the other end for a moment but his voice sounded stronger when he answered. "What's your status?"

"Bad," he groaned. Talking took too much concentration.

"Injuries?"

"No shit."

"The team arrived four minutes ago. They're clearing the area and additional reinforcements are expected in two minutes. Just hang on, Clint."

He couldn't keep his eyes open and he felt his body start to tremble. _Shock._

"Phil- I'm in the p-panic room," he choked out, the words getting caught in his throat as what little energy he still had left him all at once.

"Clint, keep talking to me. They're almost there. Stay awake Clint!"

He felt the pull of unconsciousness calling to him and he was helpless to resist. Coulson's cries followed him into the darkness.

"Clint!"

* * *

We'll finally get back to Natasha (and the actual point of this story) in the next chapters. This was a very long and unexpected filler arc but I like where it went.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, or subscribed :)

Always

Sinkme


	9. Chapter 9

"_Clint, keep talking to me. They're almost there. Stay awake Clint!"_

_He felt the pull of unconsciousness calling to him and he was helpless to resist, Coulson's cries followed him into the darkness. _

_"Clint!"_

* * *

Clint awoke to pain.

It was surprising because when his eyes cracked open he recognized the medical ward on the Helicarrier. He shouldn't be hurting.

He groaned and forced his eyes open wider, looking around for someone to take the pain away.

Instead, he was met with a scowl and red hair.

"Natasha?" he croaked. Confused didn't even begin to cover it.

"Shut up," she snapped.

He blinked his eyes clear, suspecting that he would need to be focused for what was coming.

She was pacing at the foot of his bed but he could barely lift his head off the slightly elevated backrest to get a better look.

"You asshole," she finally cursed at him, although she continued to pace and when she didn't follow up with another comment he wondered if she was really talking to him.

He used her momentary distraction to take an inventory of his body.

His right side still ached and he could feel bandages wrapped around it. It was beginning to throb the longer he focused on it.

It hurt to draw a full breath so he'd probably bruised or cracked at least a couple of ribs. He remembered falling on his back several times as well. His head was clearing so it was probably the drugs rather than the lingering effects of a concussion. Although he had no idea how long he'd been there so he couldn't quite rule out the concussion.

On the whole his body ached and as he moved he could begin to feel the pull of still-healing skin on his arms and surprisingly his temple. He reached up to feel that one gently and recalled several explosions and wood bits flying everywhere.

He knew with a quick glance that he'd keep the colorful array of bruises he was sporting for the next two weeks at least, but Natasha chose that moment to stop her pacing and turn to fully look at him.

"Why?"

She sounded so broken that he couldn't even begin to answer. He felt a flash of anger and wondered how she'd found out. She could only be asking why he'd saved her and he'd really hoped to never have this conversation.

_Fuckfuckfuckfuck._

There were a thousand questions in her face but he just couldn't deal with this right now.

"What?"

She shook his bed frame and he grunted as his body moved with it. "You know what!"

Clint took several slow breaths, mostly to regulate the pain that had suddenly sparked in every nerve in his body, but also to buy himself a moment to think.

"I'd appreciate some clarification, Romanoff. Not in the best shape here so you're gonna have to fill in some gaps if you want an answer," he settled for gruff. It usually worked.

"You were sent to kill me." Her tone was even, unfazed, although the anger was practically radiating off of her.

Clint nodded, "You certainly made your way through SHIELD's encryptions pretty fast."

He watched as her eyes traced over his battered body and then she turned away suddenly. She seemed barely aware of herself when she answered, "Coulson told me."

"What?" he snapped. He knew the shock was plain on his face. "No, there's no way."

Natasha seemed to shrink in on herself as his anger rose. He could feel blood rushing in his ears as his body unconsciously tensed in response.

She hadn't answered and he quickly lost patience with her and the situation.

"Natasha," he barked.

She flinched and turned back to look at him, eyes wide. He watched her for a moment and it was as if someone had flipped a switch; she backed up to the far wall, staring silently at him.

He was just getting a grip on the pain and working his way up to swinging his legs over the side of the bed when he happened to glance at Natasha again.

She'd slunk down to the ground, knees drawn up to her chest. Her forehead rested on her crossed arms and her hair hid her face from him.

"Fuck," he cursed and got off his bed, pulling out the IV and various wires attached to his body. He ignored the dizziness swimming in his head and practically fell to the floor in front of her.

Her shoulders were shaking and her chest hiccoughed silently. She didn't look up at him.

"Why didn't you just kill me?" she sobbed. If he thought she'd sounded broken before he definitely had to reevaluate his scale.

He was silent for several minutes and her body continued to shake.

He had to make her understand. She'd run if he didn't.

"You deserved it," he said honestly.

He could hear a quiet scoff through the barrier her arms and hair made but he continued, "Whether or not you believe it, you did. You still do."

He had to pause to take a slow breath when his ribs protested and his hand rose to hold his side.

"I watched you for sixteen days," he said quietly. "I didn't know at the time that you'd left the Agency. That you'd taken information from them and destroyed a good chunk of their computers. I guessed towards the end that you were on the run but I didn't know why you were running or that they'd show up later. All I saw was an agent too damned good to get taken out in some shitty alley by a guy like me."

She wasn't shaking as much but he wasn't really watching her anymore.

"I was alone too before SHIELD came to me. My recruitment was a little smoother than yours but I was going down the same path that you were. They gave me a purpose and I never looked back."

His legs were shaking and he fell back on his ass, another pain-filled grunt choking its way out as his body responded to the sudden change in position. His mind was getting fuzzy, the edges of his vision dimming as he finally acknowledged that he probably hadn't been ready to get out of bed yet.

"You really are a Boy Scout."

Her voice was light and controlled. His eyes whipped up to her face and he frowned.

Her eyes were clear; not a tear in sight.

Oh.

She eased him onto the floor and walked out of his room without a glance back.

* * *

When he awoke the next time he was back on his bed and much more comfortable but he was alone. First thing was to check over his body again. He'd forgotten that golden rule too many times before and hurt himself worse because he'd forgotten the reason he was in medical in his relatively painless daze.

His ribs were a little less sore and with a grimace he realized that it had been at least three days since Natasha had been by. _I might have too much experience with rib pain if I know how long it's been based on how sore I am._

Not really bothered by the thought, he found that his side was still easily pained and nothing else had changed.

He cast his eyes around for something to hint at a date or any kind of useful information. Finding nothing, he resorted to pushing the button to summon a nurse.

It wasn't his first choice, but it was quick.

"Agent Barton, you're up. Pain scale?" She already had his medical file open.

"Four," he pulled on his poker face.

She didn't look fooled and he distinctly saw her wrist move in a counterclockwise direction.

"If it was a six I would have said six."

"Of course you would have," she didn't sound sincere. Her hand reached out to adjust his IV drip but he caught her wrist gently.

"Keep the dosage the same. I need to speak with Agent Coulson," he was already feeling much more aware but the pain was gnawing at the edge of his consciousness. It gave him focus.

"Agent Barton, your medical well-being is-"

"My concern. From the moment I woke up again I regained control over all decisions related to my treatment," he made sure to keep his voice level as he spoke.

It wasn't the first time he'd had this discussion with the medical staff and it wouldn't be the last. Really she should be happy that he was still in the bed at all. He could leave if he really wanted to.

The nurse glared at him and did a quick check of his eyes, presumably to verify his lack of concussion and then left him alone again.

Despite his best effort his mind wandered back to Natasha. He hadn't been expecting it- the act she'd pulled.

It bothered him more that he hadn't expected her to do it than the fact that she'd actually done it.

She'd simply wanted answers. He suspected that he would have gone about it in a more destructive manner had he been in her place.

Most of his anger was reserved for someone else anyway.

Speaking of-

He fixed his best glare on the door as it hissed open and Coulson walked in.

His handler didn't even pause in his steps but it made Clint feel a little better to be doing it.

"Is she still here?" he asked sarcastically but he was honestly curious.

Coulson nodded, "Right on time for training. Just like every other day."

"What the fuck, Phil?"

It was a testament to Phil's staring prowess, and their time together, that Clint didn't really need a verbal answer.

"Did you need to tell her?" Clint already knew the answer.

"Yes," Coulson's voice was as bland as ever. "Things would have gotten…complicated. We both know that she's better off this way."

"I didn't know that," he was being difficult because he could.

"Clint."

"Yeah, alright. She would have dug it out of somewhere eventu- Fuck. How long has it been?" he suddenly remembered that he had no idea what day it was.

Coulson looked uncomfortable.

"How long since Austria?"

He was getting more worried the longer Phil wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Phil?"

"Twenty-six days."

"What?" his tone was much more amused than he actually felt. He knew Coulson would never joke about something like this but it was a hard thing to comprehend.

Phil started speaking again and he focused only on his handler's voice, "It took six days to get you back to the Helicarrier. There were- complications. It wasn't safe to move you after the team got to the house but they couldn't secure the area to stay. They got you out but they had to touch down at a safe house in Munich and stabilize you."

Clint didn't prompt him to continue but after a minute he did, his voice giving nothing away.

"They had you in surgery twice once you got back here and kept you out of it for a little over two weeks. They were worried you'd pull at the stitches or the bandages on your torso. And there was concern of head trauma."

He grinned, "Nope, all set there. What about now? There's a couple days missing from your count."

"They took you off the heavier meds but the doctors didn't expect you to wake up for another day or so. They were extremely surprised when they came in four days ago and found you on the floor. I take it Miss Romanoff visited?" Only Coulson could sound uninterested and mocking at the same time.

"Yeah, she came by. Had a nice chat. What exactly does she know?" He was a little hazy about some of the details.

"Just the basics. The original mission was intended to be a hit."

"Carried out by me."

"Carried out by you. You requested additional time and brought her in without our initial support."

"Did she really need to know that?"

"As opposed to?" Coulson actually sounded interested.

"As opposed to me clearing it with Fury first before approaching her after I observed her for the extended time."

"Never crossed my mind."

"Of course not," he couldn't help the eye roll.

"You vouched for her to Director Fury and the Council and were tasked with keeping an eye on the HYDRA base in exchange for their silence in the deal."

"You definitely could have left that out," the anger was returning.

Phil looked at him carefully, "Knowledge is power, Clint. I deemed it necessary for her to understand how and why she came to be at SHIELD. There was no room for half the truth."

"You realize that makes my mission for the Council almost meaningless. I took the job to keep the deal quiet and you blabbed about it before I even got back."

"You didn't take the mission just to keep the Council quiet," Phil read him like a book. "You said it yourself, it would have been assigned to you anyway."

Clint acquiesced, hating that the man knew him so well, "And I didn't really trust them not to hold that secret over my head as a bargaining chip for any future 'surprise' missions they needed done. But you didn't have to tell her so soon."

Phil ignored that and carried on, "In case you were curious, the mission was a success. The recovery team secured both hard drives found on your person and the analysts have been pouring over the data day and night. We'll need a formal debrief as soon as you're medically cleared but I'll take an informal one now to get a jump start."

There was an odd glint in Coulson's eye when he said, "I'd suggest waiting to be medically cleared for at least a week. The Council isn't exactly pleased that the safe house was compromised. And there were a good deal more exploding things than they would have liked."

"Well they can kiss my ass. They know I'm not the one to go to for subtle," he wanted to be surprised but he couldn't muster the energy.

"I'll keep that in mind for later. For now, I need all relevant observations and mission details."

He briefly considered reaching over to up his pain medication intake and knock himself out but he wanted to get it over with.

"I was able to get six bugs in the base; three in the command center and one in an officer's meeting room..."

* * *

Eh. Not thrilled with this. I kept getting distracted by other things (read: ideas for later chapters).

Not begging for reviews, but if you're already leaving one I'd really appreciate some feedback on Natasha. I had more trouble transitioning back to her character than I thought I would.

Thank you to my readers, subscribers, and reviewers! I have been completely blown away by the interest in this story and I really appreciate hearing from you!

Always

Sinkme


	10. Chapter 10

_"I'll keep that in mind for later. For now, I need all relevant observations and mission details."_

_He briefly considered reaching over to up his pain medication intake and knock himself out but he wanted to get it over with._

_"I was able to get six bugs in the base; three in the command center and one in an officer's meeting room..."_

* * *

Clint consented to remaining in the medical ward for an additional week. It was horrendously boring. Phil dropped by a couple of times but he could never stay long.

He never wondered why Natasha didn't visit.

He was very surprised that Director Fury hadn't come by and demanded an official debrief. The man wasn't exactly known for his patience. He suspected that Coulson had something to do with it.

But Clint was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth. So he took his time in medical without complaints.

Boring, yes. Easy, no.

In his own best interest he followed the doctor's orders exactly. Usually he'd test his limits but it had shaken him up more than a little to hear that he'd been unconscious for over two weeks. After two days he was allowed to get up and move around, and by the fourth day he was already beginning some light physical therapy. Mostly stretching and it was always under observation, but he'd take what he could get.

As he sat on his bed for his last full day of care he realized what had been bugging him about the timing. He'd been in Austria for about six weeks, and now with these four-odd weeks gone as well, it meant that Natasha had around two weeks left on her probation as set by the Council.

Coulson walked back to his room with him after he was released and filled him in on what he'd missed.

"Johnson took over most of the missions we would have assigned you. He's been doing well."

Clint rolled his eyes, "It helped, I'm sure, that Director Fury practically forced me to train the kid for a month before he went out into the field."

"It certainly didn't hurt. Luckily we were spared from Agent Johnson developing any of your more colorful personality traits."

"Luckily," he paused then plowed on. "So Romanoff's almost done her probation period."

"I hadn't noticed," Coulson said.

"Where's she at in training?" he was genuinely curious.

"She made one of the new recruits cry at her first day in interrogation tactics. She broke an agent's collarbone in hand-to-hand practice. No one has been able to verify that she's been sneaking out of her room practically every night to explore the Helicarrier. And _someone_ tried to access secure files in the mainframe about two weeks after she joined us," Coulson glared at him like it was his fault.

Clint just grinned, "I told you she'd been a good asset."

"Due to all of that, I had to personally construct a training regiment that would keep her occupied and satisfy the Council."

"How'd that go?" he wished he could have seen that.

"It has been adequate. She still has too much free time but she hasn't caused irreparable damage and doesn't appear to be using her time to bring us down from the inside. No attempts to contact anyone outside the ship have been made and other than the one try at the files she's steered clear of actively searching for information." Despite his tone, Coulson didn't seem impressed or pleased.

Clint knew better. "So you have faith that she'll make it to the end of her time no problem."

There was the briefest flicker of hesitation across Phil's face, "'Faith' might not be the best word."

He doesn't get more than that because they were approaching his door and Coulson went back to the important part of their discussion. "Director Fury is expecting you in one hour in his office for the debriefing."

"I'm assuming the Council will be there?" he asked sourly.

"Yes. But so will I."

Clint focused on that positive and went back to his room. Coulson watched him walk in and Clint gave him a small wave to indicate that he was fine before he closed the door. He waited for a couple of minutes and then left again, convinced that Coulson was gone and he could wander in peace.

It helped clear his mind as he walked around the Helicarrier, nodding to fellow agents and occasionally returning a greeting. He avoided the bridge and most of the areas where the Director was most likely to be.

Out of habit he found himself walking toward the training area; from the sounds of it there was a session in progress.

All of the recruits had to go through basic training that spanned over every possible job at SHILED. Every person in SHIELD's employment knew the core of what was considered important. It was an odd mix but it provided a solid grounding for each person to work up from.

There was always a chance that an analyst would need to know how to conduct an interrogation, or for a technician to have to fight for his life. SHIELD didn't take chances.

It also helped determine a recruit's strong points. Although almost every recruit was brought in with a specific position in mind, sometimes skills were discovered that made another opportunity possible. He hadn't learned of his aptitude for languages until he'd been drilled during training. Once initial training was over, every career path had its own specialized training to be completed as well, but it was usually an on-the-job kind of training.

So as he observed the recruits, he was not surprised to see various levels of competence, skill, and nervousness. Some of them eyed the mat eagerly, others looked at their classmates nervously.

And off to the side, Natasha stood completely at ease.

Her eyes had immediately fixed on him when he entered and quickly looked away once she'd realized it was him.

He moved closer to the area quietly, deciding to use his time before his debrief to watch a couple of the spars.

"Agent Barton."

"Agent Hill." He turned to acknowledge the woman. She usually oversaw the recruits for several of their classes although she usually didn't cover sparring. "Is Agent Smith on assignment?"

She ignored him, "Here to watch? Or would you like to demonstrate?"

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Natasha shift closer, seemingly interested in the second option.

He smirked, "Just here to watch. Agent Coulson would chain me to my bed if I went on the mat the same day I was released from medical."

Hill didn't seem bothered by his presence or by the fact that he'd been injured and was now up. She called two names and he moved to stand at her side and watch as they fought.

Their eyes never left the two moving figures as he asked, "So did Coulson send her here or did she just come to watch as well?"

"Both. She was with this group until about two weeks ago. She's running out of willing sparring partners. She's already burned through the first and second year agents," Hill seemed amused. "How'd you manage to convince her to come in?"

He wasn't surprised that she knew. Hill was on the command track, would probably be promoted soon. She'd started out as an analyst but an incident at the facility she'd been stationed at made it obvious that she was being wasted behind a computer and she'd been pushed to become a field agent.

Her intelligence and clear head made her very successful and she made the jump from agent to handler with few problems. Currently she was being groomed to fill the Deputy Director's position and become Fury's right hand.

Phil had been considered as well but everyone knew that he wasn't really interested in the position. He worked with Hill a lot and as a result, Clint had gotten to know her pretty well.

Clint snorted, "I feel like I hardly did anything. She was in a bad spot and I gave her a way out. The decision was hers."

Hill turned to look at him but her raised eyebrow and glare made it clear that she didn't believe him. She turned to look at the recruits again and Clint looked over to Natasha.

She was watching him carefully, unabashed at being caught. He cocked his head to the side but she didn't rise to the bait.

Instead of acknowledging his attempt to move to a quieter place to talk, she turned back to watch the spar.

Clint wasn't worried. They'd talk eventually. He left with ten minutes before his meeting, knowing it was probably in his best interest to be early. Nodding to Hill, he left the training room.

The halls were quiet and he made it to the Director's office in only four minutes. He knocked and waited to be called for.

It was two minutes before Fury barked out, "Come in Barton."

Fury was at his desk, the monitors behind showed static and he knew the Council would make contact soon. Coulson was off to the side and gave him a small nod.

Neither of them spoke. The Director moved to stand off to Clint's right, still in sight of the monitors but not in their direct viewpoint. Clint realized that he'd be on his own for at least the beginning of this.

They stood in silence until the screens abruptly changed and the four Council members were staring down at him. He let them speak first.

"Agent Barton," it was the man who'd assigned him the damned mission. "You were supposed to be keeping an eye on HYDRA's movements, is that correct?"

"Yes sir," he made sure to keep his voice even and his face calm.

"This mission was to be, and I quote, 'strictly observatory,' in nature, was it not?"

"Yes sir."

"Then how is it that you managed not only to compromise yourself but the safe house and any potential chance for further surveillance in the area?"

"I deemed the recovery of intelligence vital to the security of the country more important than my own safety or that of your house, sir. I apologize if I was incorrect in my calculation." He was proud that his voice had remained steady.

"You killed the Deputy Secretary of State," another man spoke up. This was starting to be less of a debriefing and more of an interrogation.

"I killed a HYDRA mole and undercover agent who had been in place, undetected, for years and was in a position to deliver intelligence which would have compromised the safety of the country," he had to remain firm on this point.

"You deliberately chose to disobey orders in the field," his friend was back.

"I would have called for backup and continued my mission while allowing another team to carry out the extraction except that as part of this mission I was denied the chance to have any other communication."

He was starting to get angry as he understood that this wasn't about understanding where the mission had gone wrong or why he'd had to act the way he did. The mission itself had been punitive; meant to cut him off from SHILED and Natasha and put him on babysitting duty for a highly dangerous group.

They'd hoped to be clear of him for at least two more months.

And since that hadn't panned out, they were looking for another reason to punish him.

The third man spoke up, "Your reasons were good, agent. But that doesn't change the truth. In fact, it is only because of the relative success of the actions you took outside of orders that you have not been removed of your status."

That struck him hard. He resisted the urge to turn to look at Coulson, wondering if his handler had known about that little tidbit.

He smiled at them grimly, "Well I certainly appreciate that."

The woman finally spoke up, "Despite the rogue actions, your achievement on the mission is to be commended. As I understand it, there is over a month's worth of recordings from several locations within the HYDRA command center."

"Yes, ma'am," he was grateful to her and he saw one of the men nodding in agreement with her sentiment.

The man glared at his colleagues and then turned his gaze back on Clint, "Regardless, the Council has decided to place you on suspension, Agent Barton, for your failure to follow orders, endangering the mission, and damaging the possibility of future observatory missions," the man was back and Clint felt the full weight of his glare.

He had to clench his hands behind his back to avoid giving him a rude hand gesture, so he settled for a tight-lipped smile.

Director Fury finally made himself know, "Council, as I understand it, your primary purpose is to oversee the direction that this organization takes and function as an oversight committee if necessary. Is that correct?"

Clint almost laughed at the man's wording. He was throwing their questions right back at them.

One of the men answered, "More or less, you are correct."

Fury sneered, "Then as this was a SHIELD mission, carried out by an agent of SHIELD, that would make this mission _my_ problem. There was some confusion, I'm sure, over who was in charge since the Council assigned the mission to Agent Barton. But unless his offenses were so grievous as to threaten the existence of SHIELD or compromise the agent's contract with SHIELD, it really doesn't concern the Council how an agent is reprimanded."

The Council was silent although the man and Fury were currently locked in a glaring match. The simple off-putting fact that Fury had only one eye to level at the man, and that veins were starting to form in his forehead and around his damaged eye, ensured that the Councilman was the first to back off.

Finally one of the other men spoke, "You are correct, Director."

"Super," Fury deadpanned. Clint had to pinch his arm to keep from smiling at the man's tone. "Then let's just end this conversation while we're ahead."

The man stepped up to his desk and clicked a button. The screens went dead.

Clint finally let out the snort of amusement that he'd been hiding, and by Fury's silence he could tell the man was pleased. Fury was far too fond of reprimanding him to let that slide unless he agreed with Clint's assessment.

"Now that that's done," the eyepatch turned to him. "You are to be commended, Agent Barton, on completing the mission as well as you did. Your sacrifice went above and beyond and despite what the Council has indicated, we are extremely grateful for you for recovering the intelligence stolen by the mole and for taking him out."

Clint nodded, secretly very pleased with the commendation. Fury wasn't one to give praise where it was not due, so he cherished the moment while it lasted.

"You are being placed on temporary medical leave pending your physical reevaluations, to be conducted by Agent Coulson in one week."

He nodded again, very familiar with the reevaluation exams and what he'd have to do in the next week to get to the point where he could pass them easily. It was surprising that he had set the tests for only a week away. Clint had just been released today.

"When you pass them, I have an assignment for you. Until then, rest, recover, and don't get hurt training." Fury allowed a small smirk to grace his face and Clint returned it, pleased at the man's confidence in him.

Knowing the dismissal, he gave a mocking salute to the Director and left, Coulson right behind him.

"Do you know anything about the assignment Director Fury has lined up for me?" he asked as they walked through the halls.

Coulson smiled that irritating little smile, "Of course."

"You gonna tell me?"

"No."

"Of course," he wasn't surprised. "Want to help me train? I could use a sparring partner."

"Maybe at the end of the week. You've been out of action for just under a month. It wouldn't be fair."

"I'm not that out of practice that it would be so unfair," he protested.

"It would be unfair to me. Think of all the bad habits I'd pick up because I didn't have to work to beat you."

Clint glared but Coulson hardly twitched.

"Maybe ask Miss Romanoff. She will be done with her probation status in two weeks," Phil offered blandly.

The proverbial light bulb went off, "That's why Director Fury is rushing my reevaluations, isn't it? The assignment has something to do with Romanoff."

Coulson didn't answer but Clint could read his silence well enough to deduce the affirmative. Phil turned down another hall, abruptly moving away from Clint and back to his office.

"Interesting," he mused before yelling down the hall after Coulson. "Will you tell me now?"

"No."

He shrugged and went back in search of the training rooms. Starting small meant working his way up. Target practice was always nice and relaxing.

* * *

Working up to some interesting moments again. I think it will only be a couple more chapters until the end. I'm hoping to post the first chapter Natasha's pov (as its own story) in the next couple of days.

Always

Sinkme


	11. Chapter 11

"_Interesting," he mused before yelling down the hall after Coulson. "Will you tell me now?"_

_"No."_

_He shrugged and went back in search of the training rooms. Starting small meant working his way up. Target practice was always nice and relaxing._

* * *

Three days later, he'd finally gotten Hill to agree to spar with him. He'd quickly tired of training on his own although he still needed a lot of work to get back to where he'd been before HYDRA had almost killed him.

It was a comfortable spar, if a spar could ever be called such. They mostly stuck to off-hours on the mats to ensure there was no audience. She started off slower than usual and he quickly disabused her of the notion that he needed someone to take it easy on him.

Three rounds later and he was beginning to regret that decision.

It was worth it, though, and he felt almost back to normal as he approached the end of the week. Hill had been kind enough to spot him when he worked on other exercises and she sent a recruit to be his shadow when she was unavailable.

It was more than a little satisfying to have the recruit hold the practice bags and kick and punch them as hard as he could. They were usually good sports about it, if only because it got them brownie points with Hill, and Clint usually gave them a pointer or two if they made it to the end of the session with less than three bruises.

Coulson had stopped by to observe him at least once a day, although he hadn't actually trained with him.

He spent his off hours watching Natasha.

He'd borrowed the schedule that Coulson had made when the man wasn't at his desk. Of course, Phil had tracked him down thirty minutes later when he'd returned and saw that it was missing, but Clint had already memorized it by then.

He could tell she was getting annoyed that he was always there although she was very good at keeping it hidden. He kept working at it; she'd snap eventually.

By the end of the week, Clint was starting to think that he'd underestimated her stubbornness.

She'd managed to avoid him every time he tried to corner her. He had patience, though. And if that failed, there was always his mysterious mission that involved her in some way.

His evaluations were tomorrow and he spent the day in the training rooms. He wasn't worried about his fitness, but he knew his best chance of talking to Romanoff was to be there, so he stayed in the gym all day.

He ended up being right. She came in during lunch, when it was empty of anyone else but him and he smirked, wondering if she'd known he was here when she came or if he would get to surprise her.

"Agent Barton," she called out as she sauntered in.

Apparently she knew he was here.

"Natasha," he grinned. There was something very satisfying about calling her by her given name. She never failed to glare and he'd even caught her flinching once.

"Were you waiting for me?" she asked, swaying her hips a little as she walked closer.

He was immediately on guard but answered calmly, "No, just making sure I'm up to par for my reevaluations tomorrow. Happy coincidence to have met up with you."

"I'm sure," she purred, not looking fooled.

"Were you looking for me?" he returned.

She cocked her head to the side, "And if I was?"

He smirked and spread his arms open wide, "Well, you found me."

Natasha was silent; she'd stopped just in front of where he stood by the punching bag. He waited patiently; he knew he could outlast her. She might be a master interrogator, but he was first and foremost a sniper.

Waiting silently was something he could- and did- do all day.

She broke first, although he knew she could have waited longer if she'd wanted.

"How did your talk with Agent Coulson go?" her voice was light but she was aiming to draw blood.

Now that he wasn't in pain or drugged up to his eyeballs he could recognize her tactics. He felt like an idiot for falling for it before, but it was clearer now. It helped that he'd brushed up on her dossier and drilled Hill on her performance evaluations from the last two months of training.

She was trying to provoke a reaction, something to make him slip up.

She was looking for the catch; the real reason he'd brought her in instead of taking her down.

The problem was that he'd already told her the reason. She didn't believe him.

So he'd play along and wait for the right moment to let it out, to make her feel like she'd earned the truth so she could move on.

"Better than yours, I'm sure," he shot back. Her eyes narrowed and the game was on.

"For something that was supposed to be secret he sure broke quick," there was a challenge in her eyes.

He couldn't let the dig at Coulson go unanswered and his voice was hard, "Agent Coulson didn't _break_. He _told_ you information that he deemed necessary. Mentioned that he thought you'd be better off knowing. Guess you were having trouble adjusting?"

She frowned before covering it up, her voice going softer, "Not like I had a choice. _Someone_ left me all alone in the big bad Helicarrier."

He could see where this was going and he indulged her, "_Someone_ had to take a mission to make sure that you could stay here."

"Heard you weren't doing so good when they brought you back. You looked like one of the new recruits after their first spar when I saw you."

She was changing tactics so quickly it made his head spin. He was slowly losing confidence in his understanding of why she'd sought him out.

"Yeah, getting hit with an energy gun and going through a couple of explosions will do that to a guy, I guess," he shrugged. "By the way, thanks for laying me back down on the floor when you came by. I appreciate that you didn't let me just fall. The ground was much more comfortable after that."

"No problem." She didn't seem fazed. "That was a cute little story you fed me. I almost bought it. Good ol' SHIELD, saving the damned from their miserable lives and giving them a higher calling. So who recruited you? Was it Coulson? Is that how he got your loyalty?"

He was starting to get genuinely pissed, "Don't test me, Romanoff."

There was some tension in her jaw and it looked like she was gnashing her teeth together but her voice was even, "So what is it that you want from me?"

"Want from you?" he tried not to sound as genuinely confused as he felt. Just when he thought he was beginning to understand her she turned a complete one-eighty on him.

"Yes. You spared my life. I owe you a debt," it was the most serious he'd seen her, even more than that night in Warsaw.

He was tired of the mind games and of dancing around the topic. "I didn't do it so you'd owe me anything, Natasha. Just keep doing what you're doing and be a good agent."

She didn't look pleased at that so he cut her off, "How about a spar?"

"What?" she snapped.

"A spar. You. Me. Then we're even," sometimes you had to ignore that little voice in your head that screamed 'this is a terrible idea'.

He turned to grab the gear and avoid her hate-filled glare and chucked the equipment at her as he put his own on.

He heard the gear hit the floor and he turned again, pulling the strap for his headgear. "Problem?"

Her arms were crossed and she was eyeing the protective gear with disgust. "Scared to get beat up by a girl?" her voice was back to mocking but there was still a flash of genuine anger in her eyes.

He scoffed, "Hardly. I have reevaluations tomorrow."

"That sounded like an excuse, Agent Barton."

"Put on the damn gear or leave. I'm not jeopardizing that test tomorrow because of my ego," he took his position at SHIELD and his status as an agent very seriously.

He could see that she understood because she pulled on the gear without a word and followed him over to the mat. The room was still deserted and he wasn't sure if it was better or worse for him.

Clint knew immediately that it would be an interesting fight; he'd never encountered anyone like her and from what he'd heard of her previous spars based on Hill's reports confirmed that her fighting style was as fluid as she was.

"First to yield. Any deliberate or unnecessary attempt to injure is an automatic forfeit." He'd never had to include that last bit with any other sparring partner but it seemed like a no-brainer with her, especially after he'd spent the last couple of minutes winding her up.

She rolled her eyes but didn't challenge him and stood opposite him in a ready position. He took his own stance and waited.

SHIELD had taught him a lot about fighting smart. He'd already known how to fight when he'd been recruited and he had a solid grounding in technique and tactics thanks to his time in the military but he'd never really integrated his skills or developed a reliable style.

It had actually taken him longer to unlearn bad habits and the strict military style he did know than it took for him to learn the new ones.

With his bow he tended to lean towards a style based on bōjustu, which favored thrusting, swinging, and striking movements. He was odd in that most people worked up to the addition of a weapon after starting from an empty hand style of fighting rather than starting out with a weapon and working down.

It had taken some time, and several wisecracks to Coulson, to get used to karate and the absence of his bow. Once it had clicked, though, he found that the style worked very well and he could almost always add a knife to his movements if the situation called for something more.

His own stance was solid, with his weight balanced on the balls of his feet and his arms up in a traditional guard position.

Clint mostly relied on his arms and strength when he fought, although he also incorporated a number of kicks, grappling moves, and locks if the opening presented itself.

Natasha's stance was neutral although he had the slight advantage at the opening, if only because he'd been able to hear about her other spars. He knew she tended to rely more on the strength of her legs to match her opponents who almost always had the advantage of size.

She was phenomenally agile and flexible and used her opponent's weight against him whenever possible.

He suspected that she'd favor several of the same grappling techniques and locks that he used and would be very surprised if she didn't base a large part of her techniques on the Russian martial art style of Sambo.

He could see she was sizing him up as well but her sudden explosion into motion almost caught him off guard.

Clint blocked her high punch with one arm and had to use the other to direct her knee away from his chest. He felt the power behind both and grinned.

He threw his own punch, which she dodged, and shifted his body back in anticipation of her attack. Her roundhouse sailed over his head and he grabbed her leg as it passed him and used her momentum to send her to the ground.

Her leg sweep darted out too quickly to be avoided and he joined her on the mat. Her legs immediately entangled his waist and he rolled into a crouching position, throwing his weight to escape and avoid what he assumed had been her attempt to position herself to get him into a chokehold.

She sprung up from the mat and he grabbed her kick with one hand but to his surprise she dove over him, pulling him down with her and twisting her legs as she rolled.

She'd kept hold of his arm and she extended her back, pushing against him with her legs wrapped around him and he grunted at the stretch.

The lock she held him in suddenly made itself known as she leaned back a little more and he had to bite down on the scream that it pulled.

He was very nervous now and running out of options so he tried to talk, "You know, some people might consider an arm bar to be a rather aggressive move for a spar."

She loosened her grip infinitesimally and her tone was even, "Do you?"

He tried to keep his voice as calm as hers but he knew he was failing, "It's a little excessive for the first time. Maybe after our fifth time I'd think it was ok."

She pulled a little to let her apparent displeasure show but he couldn't resist, "Was this your plan all along? Torture me into answering you?"

"This isn't torture," her voice was flat. "And I'm not really interested in your answer anymore."

"I'd call your bluff but you have the advantage at the moment," he really had to learn better.

Natasha let his arm go a little more and the numb feeling faded into tingling. He wanted to wiggle his fingers but his need to not provoke her any further outweighed his desire to see if he could still use his arm.

Her legs were still tight around him but she'd gone silent. He wasn't sure yet whether he wanted to break her out of whatever thought she'd gotten lost in, when she suddenly spoke.

"I didn't leave because I'd had a change of heart."

He wanted to know what she was talking about; more than anything he wished he could have followed her train of thought to see what led her to that, but instead, he could only ask quietly, "What?"

Clint could almost feel Natasha shut back down and just as he was going to risk it and say something, she released his arm. Well, threw his arm away from her is more like it.

He cradled his arm to his chest as she moved away from him and stood, already tearing off the sparring gear. By the time he got to his feet she was already at the door.

He cursed silently, angry at both himself and at her. He gently stretched out his arm, knowing that he needed to work out the stiffness before it settled. It was just a bonus that it would help him work off his anger as well.

* * *

The reevaluation exams were held in the training room, which had been closed to everyone else for the time it would take.

He spared a glare for Coulson, both for the early hour and for his problems with Natasha that were due, in no small part, to his handler.

The tests were routine and boring but it allowed him to fall into a mind-numbing sense of awareness and for the moment it suited him perfectly. The physical reevaluations were always better than the mental ones at any rate so he'd never dare complain even if he weren't actually enjoying the test.

He didn't need Coulson to tell him that he'd passed but it didn't hurt to hear, even if it was delivered in one of the most unimpressed tones he'd ever heard.

"You passed."

"I can tell you're shocked," he grabbed a towel and fell into step behind him as they moved across the gym.

"Not your best scores for a reevaluation. Your arm looked a little shaky."

He scowled, "My arm's fine. Stop digging. I'm sure you knew exactly what happened less than ten minutes after she left yesterday."

Coulson didn't answer.

Clint followed him to Fury's office, the silence between them familiar and unstrained. To his surprise, though, Phil paused at the door and didn't go in.

He didn't ask but Coulson answered anyway. "Director Fury only requested you."

"Yeah, ok," he tried to shrug it off but for some reason he was starting to get a bad feeling about the mission.

He knocked and Fury answered almost immediately, which was another bad sign. Most times Clint swore the Director made it a game to see how long he could make him wait. Coulson gave him that look and then left and Clint walked through the door.

"Sir?"

"Have a seat, agent."

There was a folder facing him on the desk and he pulled it open as he sat. Fury was quiet as he read it over and then read it over again. There were very few times that Clint had ever dared to directly question a decision that Fury had made but this was definitely one of those times.

"It won't work." He threw the folder back down as he stood again, suddenly too on-edge to sit still.

"I'll be the judge of that, Agent Barton" Fury was unrelenting.

"It's too soon!" he insisted.

"Which is precisely why it has to be now."

Clint ran a hand over his head, hating the situation that he was being forced into, "What if she doesn't come back?"

"That's her call. But this is as much for you as it is for her, Barton," it was hard to tell but there was something a little softer in the man's tone.

He cursed lightly, aware that he was in the Director's office, and said, "Fine. Ok. When?"

"Briefing is tomorrow morning, plane leaves at 1600. You have a timetable you need to keep. One week, Barton. That's it."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

I don't want to spoil Natasha for when I do her pov story but if you don't like how I'm writing her or are unsure or think she should be acting a different way please feel free to PM me and I'll explain it as best I can. But I promise there is a method to my madness.

And as before, thank you to every reader, subscriber, reviewer and to my core group of reviewers who have been there since the beginning, I can't tell you how much I appreciate hearing from you! Much love!

Always

Sinkme


	12. Chapter 12

_He cursed lightly, still aware that he was in the Director's office, and said, "Fine. Ok. When?"_

"_Briefing is tomorrow morning, plane leaves at 1600. You have a timetable you need to keep. One week. That's it."_

"_Yes, sir."_

* * *

He sat impatiently at the table, early for once, and waited for Romanoff and Director Fury. Coulson had been there when he arrived but they didn't speak.

Clint wished he could get up and move or do something to work off his nervous energy but there was no reason to get Coulson any more worked up than he already was. The silence was strained and Phil had that pinched look between his eyes, a hint that he was as worried as Clint.

It made Clint even more nervous but he clamped down on his impulses and sat still, calling on every trick he was taught to keep his body still and his mind calm.

The door opened a moment later to reveal Natasha and she looked at the table awkwardly. He was seated across from Coulson and the table wasn't overly large.

Surprisingly, she chose the seat next to him and gave a small nod to Coulson. She didn't turn to look at him. He took the moment to stare at her hair. Where before it was fiery red and hung around her shoulders in curls it was now blond and straight. It touched down just past her chin and it looked so good that if he didn't know better he would swear it was her natural color.

Director Fury stormed in a moment later and all attention was immediately shifted to him.

"Morning all," he started. "This meeting is eyes-only. There will be no official record of this mission and if you fail to produce the desired result by the end of your deadline, you will be marked as rogue agents."

Clint knew that the folder he'd been given to memorize last night had long since been destroyed. He'd had one other mission like this before and he wasn't looking forward to jumping into another, let alone with a wild card like Romanoff.

Fury would never be so clichéd as to actually ask whether they accepted the mission. Their silence was answer enough.

"Coulson will run things from here. If you fail or are compromised, he will deny all knowledge of your mission and assist in hunting you down. He will be your only point of contact," the Director turned to level his gaze on Natasha.

"This mission is a direct result of the intelligence you collected from the Agency. We found a pattern in shipping routes across Europe and the Middle East. It's only one group but they control most of the region and they're moving to expand their reach."

Phil stood and continued where Fury had left off, "Agent Romanoff will infiltrate under the guise of an interested buyer. Your cover is -_was_- a real person and you'll be filling her spot since she's no longer in a position to be able to attend the meet. This is their first contact in person and we're confident that they have had limited communication before this so there shouldn't be anything to compromise you."

Fury took over again, "Agent Barton will provide cover and perform recon. We need as much information as you can get, but your primary objective is to take out the top dogs and cripple the organization. We don't have names and we don't have faces. You'll have to do that on the move. It is imperative that the two of you coordinate in the field and identify the targets. You're on the clock on this one. If they survive the week they're more likely to acquire weapons that no one wants them to have and things will get very messy very fast."

Fury looked at both of them, his eye glaring seriously, "Barton will be piloting. Get what you need and meet at the hanger. Take off is no later than 1600."

They both nodded and were dismissed with a wave from Fury. Clint knew Coulson would meet them at the plane.

He went right to his room to retrieve his weapons and grab two go-bags and then turned right back to go to the jet.

Clint wasn't thrilled about the assignment, especially with how he'd left his last meeting with Romanoff. There wouldn't be any SHIELD support on the ground and that put him even more on-edge.

He'd pilot their plane to help establish her role as a wealthy weapons dealer. It gave him some time to mill around the airport, secure their hanger after they landed, and prepare the plane in case they needed a quick takeoff.

She'd go her own way, making a point to be see at several high-end boutiques in the area, before dropping completely off the map.

He'd stay out of sight until she left and move to the meeting point where he'd scope everything out and relay vital information to Natasha over their comms. He would spend most of the rest of his time in a nest of his choosing, carefully monitoring the area and being constantly on alert in case he was needed.

Ideally he would remain as support and be last-case backup. Ideally.

With this much money involved, things were bound to get messy.

Coulson was waiting for him but Clint walked past him without a word, knowing that Phil would follow him onto the jet.

He worked in silence, stowing his gear and then moving through the routine of checking everything from the top down.

"It's too soon, Phil," he said after several minutes.

"Probably."

"But you agree with Fury."

"Very rarely are we every truly prepared for anything in our line of work," Coulson shrugged. "If not now, when?"

"You'll keep an ear out?" he asked instead, understanding what Coulson was really saying.

"Both of them. What else can I do?"

Clint didn't have an answer for that, and instead left the jet to do his exterior inspections. Coulson remained inside and as he was checking the wheels and landing gear he saw Natasha walk up out of the corner of his eye.

She didn't say anything and climbed onboard. Clint went through the rest of his checks before he reentered as well.

He skirted around Natasha and Coulson, who looked to be deep in whatever discussion they were having, and moved to the cockpit for his final checks.

Satisfied, he turned back and found them both watching him. "All good, sir."

"Good," Coulson took out two comms. and handed each of them one. "They're already open on the channel. You two have your own channel should you need it. Keep me in the loop." He looked at each of them, something unreadable in his eyes, "See you in a week."

Coulson left quickly and Clint turned to Natasha, "No point in delaying if you're ready."

"I am if you are," she said.

"Great."

He took his seat and pulled his headset on. Without looking he knew that she hadn't followed him and waved a hand over his shoulder. "Come on Romanoff, I don't bite."

She slid into the seat smoothly and pulled on her own headset.

"Check, check, one, two," he said into his mic. Natasha nodded and adjusted her strap and then settled back into her seat.

He snorted, "No way you're sitting there the whole time doing nothing."

She glared but there wasn't as much heat behind it as he knew she could have.

"Watch what I do for takeoff, once we're at level and I can engage the reflector shields I'll teach you how to be a proper co-pilot," he wasn't really looking at her, focused instead on initiating the necessary mechanisms to get the jet off the ground.

"Can you teach me how to be a gunner instead?" she sounded genuinely interested.

That earned a short laugh, "If you behave."

Shortly after that they were cleared for takeoff and Clint focused entirely on a smooth ascent into the clouds. It took a little more effort to fly under the radar, so to speak, because he had to avoid all other air traffic.

He had all flights in the area pulled up on his screen and carefully monitored each projected pattern. The good thing with civilian airlines was that they were mostly predictable; in order to be effective they ran on predetermined routes and stuck to schedule.

It made avoiding them much easier.

He didn't have to worry about military vessels at the moment, but as they got closer to their location it would be something he would need to monitor.

Other than that his biggest concern was the potential for a black ops craft in the area or a satellite picking them up before they were shielded. Covert intelligence agencies flew their own planes and operated with as much secrecy as possible, just like SHIELD.

Of course they had agents who monitored those planes and from the screen he could see that there was nothing to suggest that he'd run into anything on the trip there or the return trip in a week, but sometimes they didn't get enough of a heads up to warn the pilot of a potential threat.

It paid to be vigilant.

He walked Natasha through the steps to cloak the jet and then engaged the autopilot function.

"First thing; your cover."

She actually rolled her eyes at him. "Not my first rodeo, Barton."

"Hey, you're the one who gave me my nickname. Always be prepared and all that jazz."

He knew she had it completely memorized because _he_ had it completely memorized. And if he had it down solid then she definitely did. She was an expert in the espionage business.

"Name?" he asked.

"Clair Rousseau, born August 16, 1973 in a small town near Nice. She was a French citizen with known contacts in twenty-three European and Middle Eastern countries. Fluent in French, English, German and Russian and proficient in Mandarin. Her father had ties to criminal organizations across both continents and she showed an aptitude with martial arts and guns that points to formal training. She was hired right out of secondary school by a consulting firm called Tower which dealt mostly with money laundering, overseas bank accounts, and computer encryptions. Four years later the company was completely ruined by an insider leak; she remains the prime suspect. She went off the grid for two years and emerged as a wealthy, self-employed negotiator. She was an independent contractor hired by Jones and Bolstein, a cover firm that deals in weapons. At the time of her assignment she was based out of Marseille and looking to acquire weapons on behalf of the Ten Rings through the firm."

"Jumping ahead a few questions but whatever. What are your clients interested in?"

"High-grade military weapons, anti-tank, anti-aircraft. The bigger the better. Price is not an issue. The sellers, a multinational corporation called Homefront, don't have anything close to the quality that the Ten Rings is requesting so they'll need to work fast to acquire them. There are four known locations close enough for them to steal the weapons from if they want to keep their timetable and not give themselves away by showing everyone that they don't actually have the weapons. "

"Mission specs."

"The meet will be in Belgrade. With tourists and reporters flocking there for the film festival it will be easy to pass through unnoticed. We'll arrive one day before the scheduled meeting time and I will use the rest of today and tomorrow morning to be seen around town. Clair was not known for being a hermit but she was cautious with money and practical with clothing. I will prepare for first contact, which will be tomorrow at 3pm. You will go to the meeting point after we land and check everything over. I have a room to check in to tonight that has been prepaid and you will sleep in a tree."

He was the one rolling his eyes at that.

"At the meet I will get the names and locations of whoever is running the supply end of this operation and, if possible, ascertain when and where they are planning to steal the weapons. We will use the rest of our allotted time tracking down the names I get and ensuring that they are no longer in the business," she finished.

Clint nodded, "We keep the weapons out of the Ten Rings' hands and dismantle Homefront completely. In one week."

"Sounds fun," she smiled.

"You and I have very different definitions of 'fun'" he said, although he was smiling as well.

He spent the rest of the trip teaching Natasha the basic controls, and at her request he went over the weapons system in more depth. Any sane person would have kept her away from the big guns but he figured that he didn't know anyone more qualified than her to handle them, so what the hell.

When they got closer to their destination he called out to their agent in air traffic control to ensure that they were clear to land and received confirmation that the area has been cleared and he was good to make his descent.

The hanger was private and he guided the plane over before he gave Natasha brief instructions to keep the plane running and disembarked to key in the code and open the hanger doors.

She managed to keep anything awful from happening while he was gone so he marked it down as a win in her column. "I owe you a pair of captain's wings," he joked as he coasted the plane into the building.

"I'll hold you to that," she sounded vaguely amused for some reason.

He got the plane in and killed the engine, quickly jumping out again to shut the large hanger doors behind them.

Natasha was checking over her weapons when he returned and he grabbed her luggage out from where it had been during the ride over.

He pulled out his own bags as well and retrieved his comm. device, motioning for her to do the same.

"From here on out this is in your ear at all times," he said.

She fitted it carefully into her ear, rubbing it for a moment until she became acquainted with the feeling.

"Agent Barton reporting. Code: seven-alpha-five-six-three-tango."

"Confirmed." Phil sounded exhausted.

Silence reigned and he belatedly remembered that this was Romanoff's first official mission. He gave her a little hand wave, signaling it was her turn.

"Agent Romanoff reporting. Code: echo-nine-zero-sierra-zulu-four."

"Confirmed. You've landed, then?"

"Yep, just touched down," Clint took over, letting Romanoff listen and prepare for the mission.

They both continued to move around the plane, checking their bags and weapons and taking any backup equipment from the plane that they thought might be helpful.

Clint grabbed extra nylon rope from one of the holding areas, knowing he'd be scaling a lot of things; he'd discovered that no matter what it was- trees, buildings, mountains- it never hurt to have a backup plan. His climbing skills, while exceptional, only went so far.

"You're both clear on the plan?"

He made sure Natasha saw him when he rolled his eyes at Phil's question. For some reason it was important to him that she understood that it wasn't a lack of faith in their abilities that made Coulson ask, but rather a concern for their well-being.

It didn't seem to bother her either way, "Yes, sir. We went over everything on the ride over."

"Good. Barton, move to your primary location. Romanoff, have fun at the shops. Don't abuse the card we gave you too much. I'll be listening in but it's up to you two from now on," Phil's easy confidence and calm voice made Clint feel a lot better now that the moment was rapidly approaching.

"Understood, sir. Barton and Romanoff out."

When he looked back to her she was pulling an expensive looking outfit out of her bag and he walked down the ramp quickly to give her some privacy to change. It was as good a time as any to do some light recon around the hanger anyway.

It was a secluded location and once he left he'd be able to lock it down completely to keep people out. Their agent in air traffic control would monitor the location but he wouldn't be able to do anything other than that if he wanted to maintain his cover.

He finished his sweep of the area but stayed outside.

"You can come back, Barton. I don't bite," her voice sounded in his ear and a small smile tugged at his lips at her repetition of his earlier words to her.

He had to choke back his laugh when he saw her in the pantsuit but she looked at ease and professional and so completely unlike herself that he forced himself to keep a straight face. Her hair was pulled back in a clip and she had light makeup on her face, just enough to accentuate her features without drawing attention to the fact that she'd put effort into it.

"Clair," he said simply.

She nodded, "Anything else?"

"Yeah, actually. I need to know what weapons you have. It'll help me when I'm planning and I can give you better intel if I know what you're aiming to accomplish with what you have on you."

To her credit she barely hesitated but he caught it all the same.

"We're partners on this, Natasha."

She nodded, "Right."

She pulled her weapons out so he could see where she was keeping them and get a better look at the piece.

He was unsurprised to see a Makarov on her ankle strap but was surprised when she pulled out an accompanying silencer from her bag, marking the weapon as a PB silent pistol.

There was a pair of Glock 26s that were usually on her thighs and currently made their home in her luggage. A garroting wire was at the small of her back. She had a boot knife that she briefly flashed before stashing it back wherever she had hidden it in her formal shoes. He didn't want to know how much she'd had to modify those shoes to hold a boot knife.

Finally she pulled out two wrist gauntlets and he smirked, "Thought you said you didn't bite?"

"Be thankful I didn't have them on in Warsaw," she replied. Natasha turned to him and cocked an eyebrow.

He got her message loud and clear and pulled his bags open. He shucked his outer shirt but kept his sleeveless black shirt and pulled his mission vest on over it as well as a black jacket to cover the SHIELD emblem on his vest. He already had the rest of his typical mission outfit on so he pulled out his weapons and knew that Natasha was watching as he packed them away carefully.

First he snapped his bow out and checked it over before collapsing it back and tucking it securely on the small of his back. He knew his arrows were good but he pulled the quiver out all the same and gave them a cursory check before securing the cap over them and pulling it over his head and securing it on his back.

His favored gun, a Heckler & Koch P30, went on his left thigh, and he, too, pulled the edge of his short dagger out of its place on his ankle before he quickly snapped it back into place.

The dagger was one of his most cherished possessions; it had been a gift from Coulson for the anniversary of his fifth year at SHIELD. Neither of them was the sentimental type, and he still hadn't gotten Phil to admit to giving it to him.

He'd found it in his room after a training session and it had been on his leg ever since. He never went anywhere without it. On his first mission after receiving the dagger he'd caught Coulson looking at the new addition and he'd only received a bland, "At least the color matches."

It was a little more decorative than he'd ever admit to liking, but the metal was pitched to make it look like an arrow running down the length of it. A bullseye marked the metal right below the black canvas handle, which was smooth and un-gripped.

"All set?" he asked as he repacked his bag.

She nodded and he couldn't resist one last try. "Natasha, I'm here to watch your back but I can't do that if you lock me out. We need to be in top form after you get the names so don't do anything risky."

"I got it, Barton," she pulled her luggage after her as she left and he heard her voice over his comm. "Black Widow out."

_Alright then. Time to get to_ work.

* * *

Story notes first: I am by no means a weapons expert. Everything about the guns and knives I got from online searches. The dagger was designed specifically for the movie and Hawkeye by Jerry Busse and it really is pretty awesome so I suggest searching online for a picture.

Personal note: I can't thank you all enough for your patience. I know this went way past what I originally thought and I appreciate the messages of understanding and support so much and even more that not a single person was mean about bugging me for updates. It really meant a lot and I'm so glad to be back. Updates should be regular from here on out.

As a thank you I have a couple one-shots that I've been working on as well that I'm going to be posting and I have two longer stories of my own design as well as finishing up Budapest for the wonderful fornwalt so there should be a lot coming from me soon!

Also, I made a note of it in my profile, but I was going crazy trying to PM everyone who put the story on alert or favorite so I'll only be sending messages to reviewers from now on but please know that I truly appreciate everyone who reads this, whether or not they review or subscribe.

Always

Sinkme


	13. Chapter 13

_She nodded and he couldn't resist one last try. "Natasha, I'm here to watch your back but I can't do that if you lock me out. We need to be in top form after you get the names so don't do anything risky."_

"_I got it, Barton," she pulled her luggage after her as she left and he heard her voice over his comm. "Black Widow out."_

_Alright then. Time to get to work._

* * *

Coulson had arranged for a car to pick up Natasha and had called the driver once they'd made contact so she could be driven into town and then later to her hotel. Clint wasn't worried about the driver; Natasha would no doubt drive herself to the meeting.

Clint waited until he couldn't hear the car anymore and then he went back through the jet and sent a message to their agent in air traffic control. The jet would need fuel for the return trip and he wanted to be here to lock up behind him.

He got a reply almost immediately and was pleased to see that the man would be able to come by within thirty minutes.

There wasn't much else to check since he'd already gone outside the hanger to walk around as well while Romanoff was getting changed.

He pulled out his map instead and studied the surrounding area.

The city would be full of people- celebrities, film critics, press, fans- and it provided good cover but its own set of hazards as well.

Famous people meant security. Their presence in the area would go unnoticed as long as they were quiet, but weapons deals had a tendency to get loud and messy when negotiations broke down.

Even if it was on the edge of the city, there was a very good chance that a gunshot would be noticed. There wasn't a whole lot of room for error.

They didn't know how many people would be at the meeting and they didn't know how many names they would get. He had faith in Natasha's ability to get at least some information, and they were likely to be based relatively close to Belgrade since they chose the city and location for the meet, but there wasn't much wiggle room with their week deadline.

Someone was pounding on the hanger door and he drew his gun and walked towards cover.

"Yeah?" he called.

"It's a lovely day for a walk, have you been into town yet? The dames are all decked out for the festival," a man answered.

He lowered his gun and walked over to the door, cracking it open while he replied, "Well in that case I'll have to do me some sight-seeing."

Clint pushed the door open all the way and smirked, "'Dames?' Coulson must have picked the phrase."

There was an answering smile, "He might have been rereading a biography of the good Captain when I called for the pass-phrase."

"Of course," Clint shook his head. "Alright, I'll help with the fuel. I want to get this done quick."

"Right," the man nodded and went to move the fuel truck closer.

They made small talk while they filled the jet, not exchanging names or vital information, but the simple knowledge that they were both SHIELD made the silences a little less strained.

The agent offered his hand before he left, "Good luck, mate. I'll have my comm. open should you need to leave in a rush. Otherwise you should be good to leave in a week."

Clint returned the shake firmly, "Much appreciated."

He returned to the jet and pulled all of his equipment together. He had a Glock 19 and extra magazines for Natasha's 26s in his bag as well and planned to put them to good use.

He grabbed his gear after the man left and did a final check of the jet and hanger before he pushed the dirt bike out and locked up behind him.

He usually preferred a larger bike when he had the opportunity to choose but he'd be skirting around the edge of the city and heading into the forest to an abandoned factory for the meet, so the dirt bike would attract less attention.

His bags and suspicious looking quiver probably wouldn't draw a second look because people would assume he was heading into the woods to hunt.

Revving the bike, he shot off toward the dirt path that would take him parallel to one of the main roads. They were mostly rural roads, often dirt and made by bikes and cars taking the same path. Parts of them shifted into paved roads but he kept following the off road paths for as long as he could.

He kept his head down when cars and people passed him and had to take an unexpected turn when he noticed several cars with tinted windows coming towards him. When they made no effort to pursue him and followed the road towards the city he shook it off as another celebrity heading to the festival.

As he got further from the city he saw less people and knew the darkness would creep up that much quicker. They'd landed in the afternoon, taking advantage of their departure destination on the ocean-bound Helicarrier to get them closer than they would have been had they left from their main base in the states.

He'd have plenty of time to do a thorough sweep of the factory and the surrounding area and relay everything to Natasha before she left. He might even have enough time to change some of the things in the area to their benefit.

The meeting was just shy of twenty-four hours away and he knew he wouldn't sleep much, if at all, in the time between that. It was a bonus that his body usually didn't have a problem adjusting to the time change as he moved east. West was a different story but he'd handle that after they got back. The mission came first.

The terrain was getting rougher but he pushed on, knowing the bike would be hard enough to handle without trying to navigate in the dark. He made his way up a hill and took a quick breather.

From his position he could see the warehouse district and the town that stood just behind it. The whole area was abandoned; after the factory had been shut down there was no reason for anyone to stay. Everyone employed by the factory left, unable to support their family, and anyone lucky enough to have run their own business had had to leave because there weren't any people left to serve.

To be safe he'd have to stay well away from the town, though, in case anyone was squatting in the houses or looking to loot anything that might have been left.

Sighing in irritation, he realized he would be close enough for his bike to be heard from the factory after he got down the hill, so he'd have to stash the bike somewhere or walk it closer and then stash it.

Humming tunelessly under his breath, he jumped back on the bike and made his way down. It wouldn't be fun, but it would be a hell of a lot better to have his bike close by in case he needed it, so he killed the small engine and started pushing.

The whole time he walked he kept two eyes out for any sign of recent traffic, either foot or automobile, and scanned the tall trees for some kind of surveillance system.

He kept an ear out for any wildlife as well; he knew from experience that if it was too quiet they might be avoiding the area because it had been recently inhabited by a potential threat, for example a group of armed men trampling around. Animals were good like that.

Clint saw a lot of small game in the area and wasn't immediately put out by the lack of larger mammals. Satisfied, he continued on until he found several downed trees about half a mile ahead of him. He left his bike behind and approached cautiously.

The ground looked like it had been recently disturbed and he felt a pinprick of alarm shoot through him. The trees looked wrong. As though someone had made them fall that way.

He wanted to get a better look so he backtracked a couple steps and found a tree sturdy enough to hold his weight.

Shimmying up the trunk, he grabbed the lowest branch and swung himself up to sit before grabbing for the next branch. He only had to go up three branches to get a better view and he cursed silently at what he saw.

The trees were definitely placed that way on purpose. It was harder to tell in the declining light, but it looked like there was a separate shadow being cast by _something_ under the trees.

He didn't rush though, and surveyed the area carefully. There weren't any traps around from what he could tell. That ruled out hunters or poachers. It also meant that whatever was under there wasn't bait and wasn't important enough to try to protect.

Clint had a feeling that whatever it was was going to be bad for the mission, but he tried to shake it off. He was close enough that he could stash his bike somewhere and there was enough underbrush and leaves to conceal the bike if he could wedge it under one of the trees.

He had to find out what was under there first though.

He walked closer carefully and then had to jump back in distaste when the smell hit him.

Definitely rotting flesh.

Gagging a little, he pulled up his undershirt over his mouth and nose and brought out a small flashlight from his bag.

He was careful to not disturb anything as he tilted the light down to see two men curled in the small area afforded by the trees boxing them in.

They couldn't have been here very long since he could still see identifiable features on both men. The trees had to have been placed around them since neither body was crushed under any of the three overlapping trees.

It was a dump site, definitely planned; out here, in the wilderness, isolated, was the perfect spot. The fact that there were no tracks in the surrounding area meant that he was looking at professionals who had cleaned up behind them.

The smaller animals had come back because the men had left at least a couple of days ago but the bigger animals were still spooked. Probably from the noise that taking down the trees had created. The bodies probably would have been gone in another two to three days with all the scavengers to pick at them. He didn't have to look to know that both bodies were swarming with insects already. The buzzing didn't leave much to the imagination.

He pulled out his phone and pulled off a large enough branch from one of the trees, gritting his teeth.

Nudging the bodies, he shifted them so their faces- what was left of their faces- was visible and snapped a quick picture of each man. With that much effort put into picking a location and setting up the scene he already knew it wasn't worth the time and effort it would have taken to move the trees and search the bodies. They wouldn't have anything on them to identify them or hint at why they were killed.

He left them as they were, knowing that no one who was part of the team that dumped the bodies would ever be back to check on them, and marched back over to his bike. He couldn't leave it nearby with the potential for bears, wild cats, and wolves to start prowling around the area soon.

Clint continued on, leery of traps or anything else. He was on-edge and hyper vigilant of his surroundings after that unwelcome surprise. The forest was silent as dusk settled and he picked his way closer to the factory.

The only thing he met on his way was an abandoned cabin, probably a hunter's post, and he found a tarp as well as other supplies inside. Pleased with the find, he put his bike off to the side, somewhat hidden behind a stack of cut firewood, and tossed the tarp over top.

Anyone looking would assume it was a piece of junk bike left behind and not bother with it. He took several yards of trap wire with him, knowing it could be handy for setting up the factory.

He made his way on foot, unencumbered by his bike, and began the cumbersome task of finding the best location for his sniper nest. The conditions and lighting would be about the same tomorrow so he had to look quickly before the sun dipped too low.

Most of the east side of the factory was entirely cleared of trees and the path leading away headed to the town. There wasn't any place on that side to offer enough cover and he didn't want a spot in front of the factory anyway.

He approached from the west, keeping an eye on the long shadows that were cast in front of him.

His bike was behind him and the sun would be as well, so a spot on the west would be ideal if he could find the right one. Of course, covering Natasha outweighed his preferences, so he checked the north and south faces as well.

The front of the factory, including the main entrance, was boarded up and largely in disrepair. A lot of the windows had been smashed in and glass and sharp bits of wood, metal, and plastic decorated what used to be the entry point.

In contrast, the back entrance door was in better shape and offered a choke point to enter into the factory. The doors were large but there was only one hallway off that point, leading into the main workroom.

There was a small entrance on the north side that he would have to investigate and make impassable. It would be best if they used the west entrance.

Clint knew better than to do anything important in the time it would take the sun to fully set. His eyes would have to constantly adapt to the changing light and it was already too late for him to attempt to get anything done with the little sunlight that remained.

He pulled himself up a tree and watched silently for two hours, waiting patiently for the sun to completely set. He used his time well, though, and pulled out his sketchpad from his bag.

Later, when he was done all his prep work, he'd send a layout of the area to Natasha, including whatever changes he made and where he would be set up to watch her. If he had the opportunity he would call her over their comm. and go over the layout with her, but a picture would do if he wasn't able to make contact.

He penciled the outer walls lightly, knowing the best layouts were built from the inside out, and not wanting to confine himself based on estimates. He wasn't sure if there was an underground level but he knew from the windows that the factory was four floors.

The roof was flat and empty, providing no cover for anyone who got up there. He waited longer than he'd intended, wanting to be sure the area was clear before he was out in the open.

They were already at a disadvantage with the meeting point since the sellers had picked it. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd already made their own alterations, but from the looks of it, no one had disturbed the area yet.

If he made his move too soon and they came while he was inside he'd be trapped. On the other hand, if he waited long enough that they came and did their check he could move in after they left and add another element of surprise by removing those things they'd set up.

There was the chance that they would come and not leave though, in an effort to secure the area and lock it down until the meet. These guys had a lot to lose and were probably anxious to ensure it all went well.

He weighed his options but in the end he knew he needed to move. No matter what else happened he couldn't let Natasha walk into this meeting completely blind. He had to get a layout to her.

Climbing down several branches he made his jump to the ground and landed gracefully. Clint comforted himself in the knowledge that they would likely drive to the factory rather than take the same cautious route that he did.

It meant he would have time to figure something out if they did come.

He entered through the west doors, making sure to leave no trace of his movements. The doors opened silently and he shut them behind him, looking for any kind of locking mechanism that could be used later to keep the doors shut.

He found locks at the top and bottom of each door, going into the floor below and the frame above the door, and grinned, knowing that at least the ones on the floor would be sturdy and hold.

Clint left them unlocked and followed the hallway in the only direction it offered. He didn't carry his flashlight but he had his sketchpad and pencil and drew as he went, outlining hallways and doors, marking windows and dead-ends.

The light coming through wasn't great; the moon was just over half full and it had barely risen in the sky but his night vision was good and he could see everything that he needed to.

He got to the entrance on the north end and debated momentarily whether or not to seal it off. It could be used by their targets to sneak more men in and pin Natasha down or it could be her only point of escape if they covered the two main entrances.

Clint remembered how she'd entered her safe house in Poland and decided to make the door an exit that only she could use. It was already partially jammed, a huge bin that held metal scraps was blocking it and he had to push and pull for several minutes to move it away from the actual entrance.

The door was off its hinges and was heavier than he could lift on his own. It took all his strength to turn it 90 degrees. Grunting at the task, he maneuvered the metal bin back under the door and then let gravity carry the weight of the door while the bin moved with it.

It was messy and if he had the ability he would move it more, but it was good enough. The bin blocked most of the hallway so that anyone looking to leave would have to jump over it. But the door jutted out above it, narrowing the already small passage and creating an exit with the only available space underneath it.

Natasha would be able to fit through the small window of space with ease. Anyone bigger than her would have a lot of difficulty.

It looked as though the door had been pushed in or fallen on its own, which wouldn't raise any suspicions if anyone looked over it. Since it looked blocked off they would, hopefully, be content with ignoring that door as a point of entry or exit and leave it alone.

He checked every door that he passed and locked those that led to a single room or a dead-end. If Natasha had to get out of the meeting in a hurry she only needed doors that would lead somewhere. Empty rooms also had the potential for enemies to hide out in or offer an ambush.

In some cases the locks were broken or rusted and he made do with the trap wire, getting creative to ensure that the doors wouldn't open with enough room for anyone to squeeze inside.

Every door that led to a hallway was investigated and when the halls connected he made the intersection clear. All of it was focused on directing her to an exit. There was no underground level for which he was grateful. It would have been too easy for them to hide an armed group down there and he would be less than useless to Natasha if that was the case.

He found two places to store extra weapons for her as well. These were last hopes and he made them hard to find but easy to retrieve. Good hiding places didn't actually look like good hiding places. And in this case, Natasha had to be able to grab the weapons out easily, she wouldn't have time for anything else. An extra clip for each of her Glock 26s were stored together. At a separate location he stashed the already loaded Glock 19.

He marked those carefully on the map for her.

When he felt comfortable and had covered all of the corridors he moved into the main room. He saw immediately that this location had been chosen deliberately. Although the building was four floors the three upper floors didn't have more than catwalks and ladders.

Whatever they used the factory for before it was shut down, the equipment had been big and tall. The network of platforms and walkways above made it clear that most of the work had been done from above.

As it was, everything on the ground floor was cleared out. Only dust remained where the machines had once stood. At least there was a vantage point for him now.

He made quick work of the ladders and found a spot under a cracked window at the top of the building. He finished his work on the layout of the building, adding each and every catwalk and platform and scanning carefully for any area that looked compromised or rusted.

The area wouldn't offer much cover but there were plenty of dark corners and support beams to hide an armed man. He circled those positions, including the one he was currently crouched in.

A distant roaring sound was getting louder and he forced himself to turn and move carefully to a window so he could see what was happening. Two SUVs had pulled up, headlights on and it was clear that they were making no effort to hide their presence.

Eight men stepped out, flashlights in hand and guns clearly displayed at their sides and strapped across their backs. He bit back a curse and moved down the ladders as quickly and silently as he could until his feet hit the ground floor.

_Right. Well. It took them long enough. Now, where to hide? _


	14. Chapter 14

_Eight men stepped out, flashlights in hand and guns clearly displayed at their sides and strapped across their backs. He bit back a curse and moved down the ladders as quickly and silently as he could until his feet hit the ground floor._

_Right. Well. It took them long enough. Now where to hide? _

* * *

He didn't kid himself into believing he could hide in plain sight, not in this place. They were loud and they had flashlights. They weren't concerned with people noticing they were here. And they would be here for a while.

He couldn't engage them or be seen at all. Any hint of his presence and they'd call their boss who would either call off the meeting or take it out on Natasha tomorrow. Neither was an option.

A desire to find the nearest air vent and crawl into it flitted through his mind but he dismissed it just as quickly. He hadn't checked them yet and there was a good chance they were in disrepair.

It would be less than fortuitous to fall through a weak spot with company on its way.

So he ran for the closest room that he'd blocked off. He could hear them making their way around the building, feet crunching on broken glass and dirt.

Carefully slipping his knife in, he cut the wire he'd spent so long setting up to keep the doors from opening too much and slipped inside. Now that he was in the room he could afford a cruder method and quickly wound the wire around the door handles, effectively sealing them together.

The doors wouldn't budge open at all now. And he was stuck inside in the dark.

Terrific.

He doubted they would waste the effort of breaking down the doors, but they'd probably do some work to make sure the doors stayed closed, much as he had done.

Clint just had to wait them out.

Assuming, of course, that they left at all.

His eyes had already adjusted to the dark as much as possible but he needed to find a good spot to sit where he could chance a flashlight without it being seen.

Noises rang out down the hall and he knew they were inside. Quickly pulling out his night vision goggles, he turned in a circle to get a layout of the room and everything in it.

Mostly it was junk- hard, metal junk. Not comfortable at all, but potentially useful. It would have been too easy if he'd picked the break room with a squishy couch.

With the men moving closer to his position he couldn't move anything yet so he picked the corner that would provide adequate cover and waited patiently, crouched with his back to the wall.

Clint tensed when the doors were rattled and he gripped his bow hard. He heard consistent pounding and he guessed that someone was trying to kick the doors open.

A squeaking noise made his stomach drop and he realized that one of the hinges was giving in to rust and the persistent pressure being applied. He lifted a hand and quickly pulled off his goggles; if the doors were forced open then light would come in and his vision in the goggles would be heavily impaired.

He could hear his heart thudding in his chest. This really was a terrible position for him to be in. It wouldn't take long to find him once they got the doors open and even with his skills he knew a fight would probably end in his death.

Besides, even if he lived and got rid of all the men, their boss would figure out they were missing which would jeopardize the meet and the mission.

So basically all his hopes were riding on those doors not breaking down.

The pounding continued until there was a muffled yell from further away. All at once the shuddering stopped and the doors were still.

He blinked, waiting for the other shoe to drop, knowing that he was never that lucky.

But nothing happened.

At least, nothing happened to his door.

There were sounds from further down the hall and footsteps moved past him but they seemed content that the door and the room behind it were harmless.

There was a chance they were monitoring outgoing frequencies so he didn't take out his phone to send the layout to Natasha or try to contact her or Phil with their comms. If it seemed like they weren't going to leave he would chance it later, but for now he settled in to wait.

He was good at waiting.

Clint pulled out his flashlight and risked a little bit of light so he could look over the layout he'd drawn. He used his time to clean it up and emphasize the important aspects.

The men continued to move around and Clint was having trouble keeping himself awake and alert in his dark room.

Evidently they weren't concerned with barricading the doors because he heard them move past him with hardly a hesitation and then there was silence.

Moving forward he pushed his ear down to the crack under the door and strained to hear the distant whine of engines starting.

He couldn't stop the grin when he heard them but he waited for an additional half hour after the sound disappeared.

Silence was his only friend at the moment but he was very well acquainted with it so he didn't mind. When he was reasonably sure that there was no one at least in the hall near him he unwound the wire and cracked one door open to look around.

There was nothing, but he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Still nothing stirred. No sounds echoed from nearby, and nothing looked out of place that he could see.

Satisfied at his basest level that he could move he edged out from behind the door and shut it quietly behind him. If he had time later he'd go back and block the door again but it wasn't a priority.

He pulled out his bow and nocked an arrow.

If they had left anyone behind to keep the building secure he'd most likely run into them. He had a better chance of taking anyone out quietly with his bow than his gun.

He moved silently out of the corridor and towards the back door, the same one that they had entered through. He strained his ears and quieted his breathing as he moved, his eyes scanning every inch of the hall.

Nothing seemed out of place.

It made him twice as twitchy.

He turned the hall to the main room and immediately jumped back behind the corner. Clint slowly ducked his head back out to get a better look at what had caught his eye. _Of course there's a guard_.

At least the guard didn't seem interested in staying alert. In an almost comical imitation of every movie ever, the guard sat with his legs propped up on a second chair and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed and his breaths were deep and even.

_If they left one guard inside there's probably one outside as well. _

He didn't have many options, that much was obvious. He'd been able to avoid detection thus far but leaving now presented its own problems. He needed to see what they changed and ensure his own modifications were untouched. It was very unlikely that the guards would check anything over considering the team had just done that, but he had to be careful.

Ducking back out to the hallway he made his way through carefully, eyes sharp for the other guard. He used any window he passed to check outside for any hint of the other guard but found nothing by the time he got to the back entrance.

Moving extra cautiously, he edged outside, sweeping the area over several times before committing to a movement. Still there wasn't a single thing to indicate anyone else in the area. Frowning in irritation, Clint retraced his steps, trying to find something that would point to the second guard.

Nine minutes later he'd made his way through the entire building and was staring at the first guard, a frown firmly etched on his face.

If they really only left one guard they were either very confident or very sloppy. Neither boded well for the meet.

Shrugging, he decided to handle one thing at a time. One guard made it easier for him anyway. Pulling out another gas canister, his last, he poked a hole into it and rolled it to sit under the guard's chair.

At least he didn't have to be careful with the timing this time. The guard could sleep up to the meeting for all he cared. With only one man left behind it meant they expected him to fall asleep, this guy was most likely a rookie, pulling the worst job before the real deal tomorrow. It was very unlikely they'd bother to check-in with him.

Still cautious but less hesitant, he walked back through the building, checking each room and hiding place he'd set aside and finishing up the map for Natasha.

He found some changes they made; structural shifts to allow for more hallway traffic, chokepoints made close to doors and windows with access to hallways with exits, extra weapons stored in unlocked rooms and hidden on the upper catwalks.

All in all it gave the distinct impression that they were planning an ambush and that made him nervous.

He did what he could, removing the weapons, re-locking doors, cluttering the halls again with debris. He felt like it wasn't enough.

With little else to do, he did one last sweep, picked up his empty canister, and tried to erase any evidence of his presence before running back to the trees.

He trekked back to his perch and hauled himself up, tapping his comm. to call Natasha on their private channel.

She picked up on the first beep, "Took you long enough."

He grinned, "You're welcome."

"Delays?"

"Of a mercenary nature."

"What's the layout?"

He was already sending her the updated picture, "I can scan it if you need it clearer."

"This is fine. I doubt scanning it would improve the quality that much anyway. What are all these marks?"

"Presents for you, in honor of our first mission. The big x's are backups in case you get greedy. The smaller one is a loaded 19 in case you get really screwed."

"What else?"

"Upper levels are all catwalks and ladders, a lot of empty space. I cleared them all of weapons but they could still hide some men up there, even in the middle of the day. The doors I marked are unlocked and cleared, the rest are barred shut so avoid them. The shaded exit should be good in a pinch if it goes sideways and no one can follow you that way. Otherwise it's the back exit they'll be eyeballing."

"That it?"

He frowned, "No, there's something else."

"What is it, Barton?"

"I don't know yet. Coulson's working on it. I found two bodies in the woods, someone went to a lot of trouble to hide them and keep them from being identified."

"Are they part of this?"

"I don't know. It could just be someone in town finally got tired of their neighbor and the woods was the perfect dumping ground."

"You don't really believe that."

"No, I don't. I'll keep you updated. My position is marked; I have a clear line of sight. You good with the distress codes?"

He could practically hear her eyes rolling even though her scoff wasn't muted for his benefit, "Yes."

"Super. I'll just be here, in my tree for the next couple of hours," he tried to not sound pathetic but there was no way she didn't hear how exhausted he was.

"Don't complain Barton. The staff didn't fluff any of my pillows before I checked-in, it's practically barbaric here," her voice was flat but he heard the attempt for what it was.

"Was that a joke? Are you bantering with me, Romanoff?" he smiled.

"Good night Barton," she disconnected before he could read into any further.

Still smiling, he settled in for a long wait.

To say the time until the meet would be a rough would be an understatement. To try and ignore his awkward perch he called Phil on his comm. after a couple minutes of readjusting his position to be slightly less uncomfortable.

"Phil?"

"Yes Clint," Phil didn't even try to hide the exhaustion in his voice. Clint couldn't resist.

"Oh I'm sorry, am I keeping you from your beauty sleep? I have some lovely branches here if you'd like to join me and have a late start tomorrow. Really great weather we're having here, too, gotta love not being able to feel your extremities."

"I'd take a tree over these chairs, you know how uncomfortable they are. Maybe I'll grab my heating blanket out of my office," Phil teased back.

Clint practically moaned at the thought of a heating blanket, "Jackass," he huffed out as he pulled his jacket closer.

"What's the situation?" Phil finally got down to business.

"The meeting site is clear. I was working through my own adjustments when a group crashed the joint. I had to hide out until they left and then go back and undo their modifications. They left a guy there sleeping and now I'm just chillin. Literally." Clint reported. "Anything on the two bodies?"

"Yes, and it's not good," Phil said.

"Of course not," Clint deadpanned. "Lay it on me."

"They're known associates of Thomas Malcolm."

"But that's the guy Homefront's sending tomorrow," Clint felt tension beginning to coil in his stomach.

"Yes it is," Coulson agreed.

"So the two dead guys in the woods belonged to the seller. That's- fuck. That's not great. Any chatter?" Clint hated how desperate he sounded.

"Unfortunately no. At least nothing that would hint as to a potential reason for these two being disposed of days before this meet," Phil picked up what Clint had implied. "Which means that there's something else going on."

"Why couldn't they have just failed Bodyguarding 101 and been killed as punishment?" Clint muttered, banging his head lightly against a nearby branch. "As if this wasn't bad enough now this pops up."

Phil was quiet and unsympathetic on the other end. Something perked Clint's interest a beat later, "'At least'. You said 'at least', Phil. That means there's something else going on."

Phil's voice was even, no hint of nervousness, "There's nothing, Clint."

Clint remained silent, knowing that Phil would tell him what he needed to hear. He trusted the man too much for Phil to dismiss a concern he had on a mission like this.

A sigh and then, "I need you to trust me in this Clint. It's part of the mission. You know this is as much a test for you as it is for Natasha. I'm doing everything I can to help you but this one's out of my hands."

"Alright," Clint nodded despite knowing that it went unseen. "I'll check-in again before the meet or if something comes up. Barton out."

He clicked the comm. off and settled back into his perch to watch the sky begin to lighten, trying to relax enough to get an hour or two of sleep.

* * *

On the other end of the comm. Phil scrubbed his face with his hands and turned abruptly on his heels, heading for the door.

He didn't stop to rethink what he was doing but he did have the presence of mind to observe protocol. He waited to be allowed access and gave a brief nod to the man in front of him before speaking his mind.

"Are you sure this is the right call, sir?"

"Absolutely."

"This has the potential to go very wrong. Clint was right- it's too soon," Phil insisted.

"Well now it's too late, they're in position and the meeting is in less than 10 hours," Fury studied his agent for a moment. "What exactly did you hope to accomplish with this, Phil?"

Coulson gripped his hands behind his back, "There is a strong possibility that we'll lose both of them, sir. I just wanted to make sure you thought this is worth it."

Fury nodded, "I do."

"Very well," Phil gave him another short nod and then retreated out of the room, letting the door close softly behind him.

* * *

So...I'm alive?

This is so horribly late, you all have no idea how much I hate myself. I wanted this to be completed in August. AUGUST! Anyway, I have the last chapters outlined. I'm aiming for 3-4 more chapters and at worst I'll update once a week. Hopefully I'll be able to speed that up but that's my minimum.

Thank you so much for your support- seeing readers continue to add this story to their alerts kept my guilt fueled until my muse got its act together. I appreciate every hit, review, favorite, and subscription and I will continue to reply to every review individually.

Sinkme


	15. Chapter 15

_Fury nodded, "I do."_

"_Very well," Phil gave him another short nod and then retreated out of the room, letting the door close softly behind him. _

To his surprise, Clint ended up sleeping for several hours despite the rising sun. It wasn't until a bird landed a few branches above him and began chirping that he resigned himself to joining the world of the conscious.

He was supremely glad that no one was there to witness his pathetic stretching or hear his grunts as he tried to work out kinks and loosen muscles.

Glancing at his watch he was pleased to see it was after ten and tapped his comm., secretly hoping that Natasha was still asleep and his call would wake her.

That hope was dashed with her prompt answer, "Romanoff."

"You have a bed! Why are you awake?" he asked grumpily.

"Discipline," she answered.

"You're no fun at all," he grumbled, still stretching out his back.

"What'll you do until the meet?" Natasha turned it back to business and he followed suit.

"They left one guard in the building so it's safe to assume they'll get here early enough to get the advantage. Until then I need to stretch out and finish up some prep on the ground. I'll be back in position by 1400 to monitor their approach and observe how they position their men. You'll be in position at 1445?"

"Yes."

"Fine. Wait for me before you make your approach and then we'll go from there. And Romanoff?"

"What?"

"Keep an eye out. Something's off about all this. Phil said the bodies in the forest were with Malcolm but there's been nothing that points to why they're corpses now."

"Anything else?"

Clint bit his cheek before finally settling on, "Just remember that it's my ass on the line here too, Romanoff."

"Romanoff out."

The disconnecting click left a bad taste in Clint's mouth. He knew that Natasha was aware of what was at stake but her reputation with partners wasn't exactly awe-inspiring.

He ignored the niggling sense that something was very wrong with this mission as he climbed down the tree and stretched again.

Being out of the tree lifted his spirits a little and he took his time carefully picking his way across branches and debris back towards the deeper part of the woods.

He enjoyed the warmer weather and the sun on his back as he trekked back to where he'd hidden his bike. Clint was pleased to see it was in the same condition he'd left it in. As much as he would have liked to take refuge inside the house to take a moment he knew better than to risk it.

Even though it looked abandoned there was the potential for traps on the doors and windows or even further inside the house. Better not to chance anything; leaving his bike had been risky enough.

He covered his tracks as best he could, taking extra care around the house, and then decided to go back to the clearing to see if the bodies had been disturbed.

Clint wasn't exactly sure whether he was hoping that the site had been left alone or not, but regardless the area was as deserted as it had been when he'd first stumbled upon it.

He spent some time looking to see if anyone had been through and covered their tracks but he found no evidence of that. Animals had been through the area and those markings were authentic. He didn't bother going back over to the bodies, the only thing that would accomplish would be to tempt him losing the energy bar he'd eaten on his walk over. And that wouldn't do anyone any good so he left it alone.

It was getting close to noon and Clint decided that scouting out the opposite side of the building would be a good way to use the rest of his time so he headed out that way, keeping a keen eye out just in case.

Two hours in the woods went far more quickly than he would have thought and soon he was trekking back to his tree, searching out the small marks he'd left to get him back to his proper position.

Clint scaled the tree easily and grabbed the rifle and bits of gear that he'd kept up high on the branches, easily concealed with the height and shadows. He pulled on his quiver and checked his bow, feeling more at ease with its weight on his back again.

It wasn't his favorite position, but he'd scoped out enough trees to know this was his best option in the area. There were enough sturdy branches that he could lean his full weight against them and be confident that they'd hold. This allowed him to set up his gun and lean forward against the branches, supported on his stomach with a clear line of sight.

He adjusted his scope, scanning the area first overall and then dialing in to allow a little more clarity; no one was there yet.

Clint started to mentally prepare himself, slowing his breathing and falling into a state of hyper-vigilance while simultaneously trying to keep his muscles loose. He had enough practice that it didn't take long to sink into the zone.

The minutes ticked by slowly until around 1425 when a van pulled up. Six men got out, dressed in black vests and sunglasses with guns slung across shoulders and strapped on their hips. _The Goon Squad is here_.

Clint watched carefully, tracking their movements as carefully as he could, watching as two took up positions on the outside of the building and the other four entered the building. Despite his line of sight through the windows he couldn't track all of them.

Several minutes later two of the men came out and the guard from last night was with them. They stood by the entrance and the guard talked to one man while another took out a phone and made a call.

Clint's best guess was the guard was giving his report, minimal though it must have been, and they'd done a quick sweep of the building before deciding it was clear. The call was most likely an all-clear signal to Malcolm.

Sure enough, ten minutes later another car pulled up and Thomas Malcolm stepped out of the back. Clint tracked him with his scope until he entered the building. The guard from last night got into the van and drove it to the other side of the building, out of sight from the way Natasha would come.

The other two guards took up positions on the outside as well. Clint ticked them off in his head; _four outside, one for each corner of the building, two inside, positions unknown, one in the van and one in the car, both waiting in case a quick getaway is needed. And Malcolm inside. _

It wasn't great but it could have been worse. The two men inside would probably stay with Malcolm on the ground or at least within view in case they were needed. He couldn't get eyes on the guard in the van or the two men on the far sides of the building so it was possible they had entered the building.

At least he could see most of the main floor, including where Malcolm stood in the middle, flanked by the two guards as predicted. Things would turn to shit quickly if they moved much; as it was they were at the edge of the window he was looking through. He could lose his line of sight and the shot he had lined up in the blink of an eye.

When the two guards he could see on the outside each began moving from their position to walk the length of the building towards the back, where they too would be unseen from Natasha's approach, Clint turned his scope back to the windows, trying to get a glimpse of anyone waiting in the catwalks above.

He got a gleam of something but he couldn't be sure of anything with the way the sun was reflecting off the glass. It was quickly approaching go-time so he clicked his comm. on.

"Romanoff."

"I'm in position; eight men on site in total. Two men inside with Malcom, I have a clear view of all of them. Of the other six I only have eyes on one in the car in the front of the building. There's a van around back so at best there's another one waiting in there."

"So there's four men, possibly five, unaccounted for, and all of them are might be hidden inside."

"Yeah pretty much."

"You're so useful. I'm making my approach."

Clint watched silently as her car pulled up. At the noise two of the guards moved forward from their positions and guided Natasha to park her car and exit the vehicle.

One took the keys from her and checked the car over while the other moved to check her for weapons. He could imagine her rolling her eyes as she was patted down and her bag was inspected. When the guard produced no weapons Clint gave a small smile. At the very least she had her boot knife and garroting wire on her. Her guns were too conspicuous; despite her prowess at unarmed combat he was glad he'd left some guns in the building just in case.

Natasha took her cues from the guards as they escorted her inside, one leading her and one positioned behind her.

"So with those two accounted for there are now still three wandering around. Check up on the catwalks if you can when you first get in there, that's the biggest threat," Clint said, tracking Natasha as she disappeared from his view.

A moment later she was back as she joined Malcolm and his guards on the main floor. He watched Natasha carefully and bit down on his lip when she moved her bangs out of her eyes with one finger. _One man up above_.

"Where?" he asked, already adjusting his scope to try to get a better view.

"Mr. Malcolm, it's a pleasure," Natasha spoke and extended her hand in greeting.

"Indeed, it is," Malcolm moved forward and shook her hand. As Natasha stepped back and dropped her hand she quickly touched her index finger to her thumb and then let her hand fall open and down to her side.

"Nine. Your nine o'clock," Clint muttered as he shifted to get a better view. "Or it's 'f' and you're telling me to fuck off." It took a moment to find the man among the shadows but Clint saw him. "Got him. Looks like he's there as backup for your ridiculously paranoid seller. Guns are holstered, he's just observing. Keep any signals to your right side if you can; easier for me to see and you can block his line of sight with your body."

"Shall we get down to it?" Malcolm offered.

"Yes, that seems prudent," Natasha agreed. "I understand you think you can supply what my employers are looking for." She phrased it like question, trying to goad him early.

He bristled, "I _know_ I can supply what they're looking for Ms. Rousseau."

She smirked, "I'd think carefully if I were you, Mr. Malcolm. Jones and Bolstein doesn't take kindly to posturing amateurs. You know who they work for and trust me when I say those men don't give second chances."

Clint marveled at her; her voice was calm and light and her posture was utterly confident. Despite being outnumbered and seemingly weaponless she was in complete control.

Malcolm flushed but fought for control, his voice tight, "Well I can assure you that I am as good as my word. Do you have similar assurances? I'd like a guarantee before I risk moving this much equipment. It would be most unfortunate if I went to all this trouble to move your merchandise only to find out this was a ruse or a sting."

"Excuse me?" Natasha's voice was colder than ice, her light French accent thickening as if unconsciously revealed in her anger. A moment later, as she huffed a quick breath and glared at Malcolm, her voice was light again and carefully neutral. "I must have misheard you, sir. You couldn't possibly have just insinuated that Jones and Bolstein are under investigation of any kind, let alone cooperating with _any_ authorities in an attempt to capture _you_ and dismantle Homefront."

Her voice reflected amusement although her body language clearly indicated her irritation, "Clearly you are not what we are looking for. Good day."

She turned on her heel, easily brushing past a stationary guard; her gait was slow and easy. Natasha wasn't retreating, she was strolling out.

She'd hardly gone three steps before Malcolm called out, "One moment."

Natasha turned back, one hand coming up and turning palm up as she gestured out to her side in a movement that clearly said _you had better impress me right now or I'm leaving._

Malcolm was clearly cowed and his voice was sickly sweet, "I believe we got off on the wrong foot. I, of course, did not mean to imply anything of the sort. Homefront is more than willing to move whatever Jones and Bolstein requests but an order of this magnitude will take time."

"If we're going to negotiate I'd appreciate some privacy. I came alone and unarmed, as you can see, and of the two of us my position would usually demand more security than I supplied on this trip. I will not have these details being overheard by your twenty dollars an hour armed monkeys," she smiled and cocked her head slightly to one side, looking up to her left where the guard was hiding above.

"I'd heard you were good, Ms. Rousseau. It's nice to see you live up to your reputation," Malcolm waved a hand and the guard moved down from the catwalk.

That's when everything went to hell.

He's not sure what triggered it, but suddenly Natasha is yelling, an inarticulate scream of rage. There's a beat of silence as Clint prays he's just snapped and imagined it but then gunfire erupts in his ear and the sounds echo in the distance.

"Fuck fuck fuck," he curses as he quickly gets his rifle slung across his back, falling alongside his quiver. The rest of his gear is left behind and he ties the rope off with the fastest knot he knows.

His hands and calves burn despite his gloves and pants but he ignores that in favor of getting down the tree faster. As soon as his feet hit the ground he's sprinting.

"Natasha!" he's yelling repeatedly into the comm. but the sounds are indistinguishable and she's not answering him.

His mind is racing, trying to figure out what happened, what gave her away, and what to do. There are three men completely unaccounted for; with the gunfire at least it's likely they're heading towards the fight.

But Natasha was his priority since he hadn't heard from her; time was short and he had to get to her first and worry about everything else second.

He pulled his Heckler and Koch from its holster on his thigh, opting for the quickest close-range weapon he had and hardly slowed as he approached the building. A quick glance at the car showed the guard had left his spot. A blur in the corner of his vision was his only warning and he threw himself to the side as bullets whizzed past him.

From the angle of the shots the guard had to be behind the car. He had to move quickly; he didn't have time for a standoff. Easing himself onto his stomach he made sure to keep his body blocked with the building and peeked out long enough to see where the guard was crouched. His first shot tore through the guard's unprotected leg and once the man fell clutching his leg it was one more shot for the kill. In a flash Clint was up again.

Silence hung thick and heavy where before gunfire had pierced the air and his heart beat rapidly as he moved through the entrance and down the hallways toward the center of the building. Every corner was quickly checked before he moved forward but he was being maddeningly careless in his haste.

Every sense was screaming at him but he pushed forward until he came to the main room. His hand and gun lowered in shock as he surveyed the scene. The rest of the guards must have converged once the shooting started because Natasha stood and he could see five bodies. The last two were still alive and squirming and moaning in pain; they'd been relieved of their weapons.

Malcolm stood with his hands held in front of him and Natasha's gun trained on his head.

"What the _fuck_ Romanoff?"


End file.
